


The Lie In Which You Linger

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series 4 AU. In which Arthur ends up courting Merlin instead of Gwen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wicked Day

**Author's Note:**

> [Make sure you go here and check out the fabulous art!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8017399)
> 
>  
> 
> To be honest my brain is a bit too fried right now to make any sort of coherent comment lmao. It’s been a loooooong year.
> 
> Admittedly, after things didn’t go so well last year I was really nervous about signing up this year, but I’m so glad I did because I got paired with an amazing artist. Seriously Adele I get so excited every time I look at your art (which is A LOT the past few days). Every time I think I know which one is my favorite I look at the next one and think, “No wait, this one is my favorite. Oh wait, but this one is great too!” Thank you so much for providing such beautiful art for my fic!
> 
> And serious thanks to my beta! Finding a beta and sending my fic off to them was the most nervewracking part of this whole fest. I was so sure I was gonna have to do a million rewrites that I wouldn’t be able to find time for. Jazmine’s comments and seeing Adele’s finished work are really what carried me through to the end here. You guys are both seriously so awesome.
> 
> And of course, thanks to the mods for hosting this fest! You guys rock!

-

Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. The funeral black had been replaced with bright red and gold banners and a feast was planned for that evening, but Arthur couldn't muster up the excitement he thought he should be feeling. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd always known that the day of his coronation would follow the day of his father's passing. But he'd assumed the reason for his father's death would be old age or illness or even a wound sustained leading their army into battle. He hadn't thought it would be like this. The assassin, the sorcerer. Arthur wasn't sure who he blamed more. After all, the sorcerer may have killed his father but it was Odin's assassin who had caused the injury that made Arthur think turning to magic was the answer.

The door to his chambers opening drew Arthur from his thoughts. He turned to see Merlin slipping quietly into the room.

"It's time," Merlin said. Arthur knew that was his cue to sweep regally out the doors and head down to the throne room, where the entirety of Camelot’s court and an empty throne awaited him. Instead, he remained frozen by the window, as if his feet had taken root in the floor there. Merlin frowned. "Arthur?" He came forward and reached out. For a moment Arthur thought Merlin was going to hug him and the prospect wasn't entirely unwelcome. But after a moment of uncertain hovering Merlin's hands began smoothing out the creases in Arthur's clothes, checking that his cloak was done up properly, that his hair wasn't a mess. It had been a strange few days between them, what with Arthur mourning and Merlin being strangely somber. Somberness aside though Arthur could admit to himself that he didn't know how he would've gotten through this without Merlin. From the moment he'd stepped out of the throne room to find Merlin sitting against the stone staircase to now, moments before the coronation, Merlin had been a quiet support, a solid presence. It struck Arthur then that he could no longer imagine what life without Merlin would be like.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, catching Merlin’s hands to still their nervous fluttering. But then he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He searched for words, but they all slipped from his grasp.

“You’re ready,” Merlin said, voice quiet and steady. It was amazing the way he could read Arthur so well, how he always seemed to know what needed to be said. What Arthur should say in return was thank you or some variation thereof. Instead, he found himself leaning in closer, Merlin’s hands still held in his own, until their lips were pressed together.

_What are you doing?_ Arthur asked himself. _You have a coronation to get to. Everyone is waiting in the throne room for you to be crowned king and here you are, still in your chambers, kissing your servant._ He went to pull back, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but then Merlin kissed him back and Arthur decided there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. The court could wait a bit longer.

-

The crown clattered against the table. Merlin came forward slowly, reaching up to gently untie the cloak. It was draped over a chair while Merlin next pulled off the heavy chain mail. Then his fingers deftly untied the knots of the gambeson. It shouldn’t be strange seeing Arthur stripped of his regalia. Maybe it was because he was the king now. Maybe it was because his sorrow had been hidden beneath his armor and without it now his shoulders slumped and his head drooped like a wilting flower. Merlin hesitated only a moment before reaching out, pulling Arthur to him, guiding his king’s head to rest on his shoulder. Tension drained from Arthur’s body as he settled there, wrapping his own arms around Merlin’s waist. Merlin could feel lips pressed against the skin of his neck.

“I know he wasn’t the best father,” Arthur said quietly. “But I loved him anyway.”

“Of course you did,” Merlin said. “He was your father.” Arthur held him tighter before pulling back a bit, so that they could look each other in the eye. The king seemed to be searching for something, but Merlin wasn’t sure what. 

“Do you think he really intended to kill my father?” Arthur asked. “The sorcerer?” Merlin swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat. His heart started pounding in his chest. 

“I think there wouldn’t be much point in intentionally killing Uther,” Merlin answered cautiously. “His wound was fatal. He would have died regardless.”

“That’s not really an answer,” Arthur pressed. “Tell me, Merlin. Tell me honestly. What do you think the sorcerer’s intentions were?”

Merlin suppressed the urge to flee the room. Arthur was asking his opinion, that was all. And he was asking for honesty. The urge to lie was strong, a reflex after so many years of it. But Merlin took a moment to gather himself and actually consider his answer.

“I think…” Merlin took a deep breath. “I think the sorcerer had every intention of healing your father. Why would he bargain the freedom of his people and then turn on you? Perhaps Uther’s injury was too great to heal. Perhaps that sort of magic was beyond the sorcerer. Whatever the reason, I don’t believe his intention was to cause harm.”

Arthur pulled away, going to stand by the window, and Merlin had to stop himself from reaching out to pull him back. “Sometimes I forget that you didn’t grow up here,” the king said. “Magic has never been persecuted in Essetir.”

“No,” Merlin confirmed. “Though it was never thought wise to be open about it. There were rumors of what Cenred did with sorcerers.”

“I never know what to think about magic,” Arthur admitted. “There are times when I think it can be used for acts of kindness. But then I see it used to bring harm and suffering to innocent people. How can I ever trust that a sorcerer won’t use it to hurt others?”

“How can you trust that someone who knows how to wield a sword won’t use it to hurt others?” Merlin pointed out. He saw Arthur bow his head. The silence stretched for long enough that Merlin wished he hadn’t said anything. 

“Thank you Merlin,” Arthur finally said, still facing the window. “You may go.” Merlin considered staying. Any other night he likely would have. But tonight he could sense that Arthur wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Whether that would do him any good or not, only time would tell. Merlin hoped he would spend the evening pondering their brief discussion of magic and not ruminating over his father’s death.

-

For most people, the logical next step after kissing someone and realizing you were in love with them was probably to court them. Or at least talk to them. But Arthur found himself doing neither. Perhaps it was absurd, but he couldn’t help feeling concerned. After all, he still remembered his uncle’s expression of relief when Arthur had promised that he wasn’t courting Gwen. No, in the end she’d chosen to give her heart to Lancelot and it was a choice that Arthur had given her his whole support on. Gwen would have made an excellent queen, but though that ship had sailed she still made an excellent advisor. Which was partly why Arthur sought her advice now.

“Well, I should say it’s about time,” Gwen quipped, flicking her wrists and easily straightening out the sheets she was using to dress the bed. She’d thrown herself into work since Lancelot’s death and it was difficult to catch her otherwise.

“What?” he asked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Gwen grabbed a blanket, smoothing that over the sheets. “I mean that you so clearly have feelings for him and since we’ve decided to let what was between us fade that it’s about time you started expressing your affections.”

Arthur frowned. “But…” He thought over her words. “I hope you don’t think- I truly did love you Guinevere. I still do, as a matter of fact, though obviously in a different fashion-”

Gwen’s laugh cut him off. “Arthur,” she said, pausing in her work to face him, “I was implying no such thing. I know your feelings for me were genuine. Mine for you were as well. But just as I also held affections for Lancelot, so too have you held affections for Merlin. And since we’re not pursuing a relationship, I think it would be good for you to pursue one with Merlin.”

“Oh.” Arthur cleared his throat. “But do you think that would be prudent?”

Now it was Gwen’s turn to frown. “Do I think what would be prudent?”

“Courting Merlin,” Arthur clarified. “You know I mean no disrespect when I say this, but he is a servant and…”

“And what?” There was an edge to Gwen’s tone. “You didn’t think it mattered all that much when you were courting me. Why does it make any difference with Merlin?”

“Just something my uncle said. I do have to consider public opinion, you know.”

“Arthur, public opinion is the last thing you need to be worried about.” Gwen rolled her eyes, picking up another blanket. “The serving girls spend enough time giggling over how romantic your desire for true love is and I’ve heard similar opinions expressed by the townspeople. Court may be a different matter, I’ll admit, but what’s more important, the opinion of some stuffy old nobles or your happiness? I can certainly tell you which one is more important to ruling a kingdom.” They lapsed into silence then, Gwen continuing with her work while Arthur pondered her words. She had a very good point, he decided.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

“Good.” She sounded smug. “Now off with you. I’m sure you have better things to do than watch me make someone’s bed.”

“Better is debatable,” Arthur said. “But yes, I suppose I should go do… something.” Find Merlin, probably. Not because Arthur had a pressing desire to confess his feelings or anything, but because Merlin was the one who drew up his schedule and always knew what was going on. As if summoned by that thought, Merlin appeared in the doorway of the room, looking very cross.

“There you are,” Merlin snapped. “You’re supposed to be hearing petitions right now, not bothering Gwen.”

“I’m not bothering-”

“You are, actually,” Gwen cut in. “Not terribly, but there are still quite a few rooms that need to be done after this and it all has to be done by tomorrow.”

Arthur frowned. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“What- are you serious?” Merlin gaped at him for a moment before the cross expression returned. “We went over this at breakfast! The envoy from Mercia is arriving tomorrow! Which, speaking of, you will be sitting through petitions without me around to fetch things for you because it’s the only time I have available to write your speech.”

“Hang on, why are _you_ writing _my_ speech?” Arthur demanded.

“Because your speeches are awful,” Merlin said bluntly, causing Gwen to snort in amusement. “I just end up rewriting most of it anyway, so I may as well just save us both the trouble and do it all myself.”

“My speeches aren’t that bad,” Arthur protested. Could they use some work? Sure. Did Merlin usually look horrified whenever Arthur handed him one? Certainly. Did those speeches given to Merlin for editing normally come back with many changes? Okay, yes, Arthur could see Merlin’s point. “Alright, fine, write the damn speech.”

“I will. And you will get your royal backside down to your throne right now so as to hear the concerns of your people.” Merlin disappeared down the corridor. Arthur stared at the doorway for a moment, not sure if he was feeling irritated or smitten. Both, he decided. Probably both.

“Well, you heard him,” Gwen said. Arthur could hear the smile she was trying to suppress in her voice. “Off with you. It sounds as if you’re late enough already.”

-

Five days after their conversation, not even an hour after the Mercian envoy had departed Camelot, Arthur burst into Gwen’s home and blurted, “I don’t know what to do!” Gwen, keeping most of her focus on the tunic she was in the middle of mending, sighed.

“What don’t you know to do?” she asked with considerably more patience than Arthur possibly deserved at this point. This was not the first time he had accosted her for advice since their chat and he did seem to have a habit of picking times when she was working. Though to be fair it wasn’t his fault his schedule had so little free time.

“Merlin,” Arthur said. When Gwen paused to raise an eyebrow at him, he elaborated with, “You liked receiving flowers and nice things and the occasional sweetmeats right?”

“I did.”

“But Merlin probably wouldn’t go for that sort of thing would he.”

“Well I think he would actually enjoy some sweetmeats, but as for the other things, probably not.” Gwen turned back to her mending. “So you don’t know how to court him.”

“I have no idea where to start.” Arthur ran frustrated hands through his hair. With Gwen it had been so much easier. She loved having flowers to put around her home and nice poems (Arthur had never written any himself, but Lancelot had apparently been quite a poet) and other typical things Arthur had seen ladies receive from suitors. Merlin, on the other hand, would most likely never remember to take care of flowers, he’d already seen (and laughed at) Arthur’s attempts to write poetry, and he just didn’t seem interested in anything that wasn’t practical.

“Well, what does he like?” Gwen asked. Arthur shrugged. “Oh come on. You’ve known him for over half a decade and you can’t name one thing that interests Merlin?”

“Books,” Arthur answered automatically. Had Geoffrey not banned him from the library- except for errands for Gaius, which had to be confirmed with a note written by the physician himself- that was probably where Merlin would spend most of his free time. And while Merlin wasn’t fond of hunting, he did enjoy- “Nature. He likes being outside.”

“So you should…” Gwen prompted.

“Buy him a book.”

“What kind of book?”

Arthur frowned. “A… nice book? About… trees?”

Gwen muttered something most likely insulting under her breath. “Forget books for now. What about the other thing?”

“Nature?” Arthur’s frown deepened. “You can’t give someone nature. I mean I could give him flowers, but he would never remember to water them. He’s always busy with something.” Especially since Arthur had become king.

“Sometimes I wonder how I ever found you charming,” Gwen said. “What kinds of things can you do in nature, Arthur? Besides hunting.”

“You can go for a ride.” Arthur’s expression brightened with understanding. “And a picnic! A ride and a picnic!” Finally, Gwen smiled.

“There you go.” She set her needle and thread aside and examined the tunic. “Here, take this to Merlin for me, would you?” She held the tunic out.

“Can’t you do it?” Arthur asked, frowning at the garment.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I could. Or you could do it and take advantage of the opportunity to ask Merlin if he would like to go on a ride with you tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Arthur took the tunic. “Yes. Excellent idea. Thank you, Guinevere.”

She smiled. “I’m happy to help.”

-

“Whatever it is I didn’t do it,” Merlin said distractedly. He was bent over the page of a book, closely following what looked to be a recipe for some sort of remedy. Arthur paused for a moment in the doorway, wondering how Merlin had known it was him without looking and why he assumed he was in trouble.

“Actually, I was just having a word with Gwen,” Arthur said. “She asked me to give this to you.” Merlin finally looked up, first blinking at Arthur before looking down at the tunic held out towards him.

“Oh. Thank you.” He accepted the tunic from Arthur, going to toss it in his room before turning back to his work. He paused when he saw that Arthur was still standing there. “Is there something else you need?”

Arthur cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay.” Merlin crossed his arms and waited.

Arthur frowned.

“Is there a reason you’re so defensive today?”

“I just have a lot to get done and I don’t really have time for anything else. So if you’re here to add yet another thing to my list-“

“No, nothing like that,” Arthur said quickly. This was not how he’d wanted to start this conversation. Merlin relaxed a bit, though he didn’t uncross his arms.

“I wanted to ask…” Arthur cleared his throat again and told himself there was no reason to be nervous. It was just Merlin. “A ride.” Fuck.

Merlin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“With me.” Shit this wasn’t going well. “Would you like to go on a ride with me tomorrow.”

Merlin’s confusion didn’t abate. “For… hunting?” he asked.

“No, just… a ride. To a place. For a picnic.” Why was it that he could smooth talk all manner of visiting nobility, but he couldn’t ask someone he cared about to go on a simple picnic?

“Oh.” Merlin’s confused expression finally turned into a smile. “Sure, that sounds nice. Anything in particular you want me to pack?”

“No, don’t pack!” Arthur blurted and Merlin’s confusion returned.

“What would we eat then?”

“What I mean is, you won’t be packing. Someone else will pack.”

“Oh.” The smile Merlin gave him this time was more confused than happy. “Okay then. So will this be a morning thing or an afternoon thing?”

“Afternoon,” Arthur said. “So, I will… see you…”

“Later tonight?” Merlin offered.

Arthur’s went wide. “What?”

“To serve you dinner,” Merlin clarified. “And help you ready for bed. What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing.” They stared at each other for a moment longer before Arthur performed an abrupt about face and walked out of the room.

-

“You look very concerned about something,” Gaius observed over a late shared dinner.

“Arthur’s being weird,” Merlin said.

“Weird how?”

“Just… weird.”

“Are you concerned he may be under the influence of an enchantment?”

“No, it’s not that.” Merlin searched for words, but couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t, “Just… weird.” 

“Alright then.” Gaius went back to his dinner and Merlin continued picking at his own. He had a guess about what was causing Arthur’s weirdness, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Merlin hadn’t told anyone about the kiss a few weeks ago. Part of him was convinced it had been a fluke. After all, Arthur had just spent the entire night mourning his father and there had, at least at one point, been a mutual attraction between them. He could’ve just been reaching out for comfort from a familiar source. The more time passed, the more Merlin became convinced of this. Until this afternoon when Arthur had asked him out on a ride, making a point of telling Merlin that he wasn’t expected to do any of the packing. It sounded dangerously close to a romantic outing. It probably wasn’t. They’d gone on rides together before that hadn’t been about hunting. Arthur was probably just feeling overwhelmed by all his new responsibilities and wanted a break. Yes, that was it. This had nothing to do with courting or anything close to it. Just a ride. A normal ride. With a friend. A friend who had kissed him a few weeks ago.

“Oh my god it’s a date!” Merlin blurted, startling Gaius badly enough that the old man nearly knocked his dinner to the floor.

“Merlin!” Gaius scolded.

“Sorry! Sorry. Just- I just realized something.”

“I can see that. Would you care to share this realization?”

Merlin picked at a spot on the table. “Um, not really.” Gaius raised a pointed eyebrow, but left it alone. Merlin went to bed that night with an odd, queasy feeling in his stomach. Tomorrow was either going to go very well, or very badly.

-

Arthur hadn’t thought this whole picnic thing through well enough. Well, the actual picnic part had been thought out in great detail (possibly too much detail), but the part leading up to the picnic? Arthur hadn’t even considered it. Merlin showed up unusually on time, cutting into Arthur’s sleep and making a nervous racket with the breakfast tray.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it,” Merlin commented as he pulled the drapes open. Arthur said nothing, as his face was still buried in his pillows and he didn’t yet know whether the day was lovely or not. “Probably chilly though, seeing as it’s still winter. By the way, I had to move your schedule around a bit. You were originally going to train with the knights this morning because you keep insisting that’s something you don’t want to drop from your schedule and then this afternoon was a council meeting to discuss the situation in the south, but since we’re…” Merlin paused for a moment in his rambling and Arthur peaked an eye out to watch him flounder and then decide to just skip over that afternoon’s impending activities. 

“Well, I’ve had to rearrange your schedule. The situation in the south is too important to put off until tomorrow, so that meeting will be this morning. There’s also a very insistent farmer and his neighbor wanting you to settle a dispute. One of those things where someone’s animal wandered onto someone else’s farm and now the animal’s dead and someone wants recompense. Or something like that. Their explanation was very confusing. But with that and the council meeting I’m afraid there won’t be any time for training today-”

“Merlin,” Arthur finally interrupted. “Does Gaius need your help with anything this morning?”

Merlin stared at him for a long moment before blurting, “Yes! He does!”

“Well, I don’t think I really need you at my beck and call for a few simple meetings, so if you need to…” Arthur made a vague gesture that he hoped communicated what he meant. Not that he really knew what he meant. All he knew was that he wasn’t looking forward to spending half the day listening to Merlin’s nervous ramblings when he was already nervous enough himself for their… thing. Merlin looked relieved.

“Yes. I do. I’ll just lay something out for you to wear and then go do the… thing. For Gaius. Yes.” Merlin whipped around and yanked the wardrobe open, nearly smacking himself with it. Arthur just turned and buried his face back in the pillows until he heard the sound of Merlin’s footsteps crossing the room, followed by the opening and closing of the door. Sighing, Arthur dragged himself over to have breakfast and start his day.

-

There was no reason to be this nervous. Merlin had known Arthur for what, six years now? Or at least close to. He’d seen Arthur from his strongest to his weakest moments and everywhere in between. So he really shouldn’t be standing in front of the mirror in his room, smoothing his hair down again when it really didn’t need anymore smoothing. And yet here he was. He supposed a lot of it was that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Normally going somewhere outside the city with Arthur meant helping him get ready, preparing supplies, ensuring the horses were readied, but Arthur had been insistent that Merlin wasn’t to do any of that.

Maybe he should’ve stayed and gone to the meetings with Arthur after all. Work would’ve given him an excuse to keep his mind off the impending picnic. As it had turned out, Gaius didn’t have any pressing need for Merlin that day and had assumed he would be in meetings with Arthur or tending to any number of daily chores. With the worst injury that day being a young noble boy’s scraped knee Gaius had quickly run out of things for Merlin to do. Merlin had ended up banished to his room when an attempt to practice a bit of healing magic during a lull in visitors resulted in the herbs he’d been about to mix getting up and dancing around on the workbench like mischievous little fairies.

Gods, was he blushing? Merlin buried his face in his hands and groaned right as Gaius knocked on his bedroom door. “Yes?”

“Arthur’s here,” Gaius informed him as he opened the door. He looked bewildered. “He said it’s time to go?”

“We’re spending the afternoon outside the city,” Merlin said, proud of how even he managed to keep his tone. “Just… doing stuff. Riding horses. Eating… things. Food. Eating food. Not just random things because that would be weird. And probably very unhealthy. Also-”

“Merlin,” Gaius interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Are you going or not?”

“Oh. Right.Yes. I’ll see you this evening, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Gaius raised his eyebrow.

“You know what I mean!”

Gaius’s eyebrow crept higher, but he mercifully didn’t say anything further, just descended the short flight of stairs back into the main room where he returned to work. Merlin took a deep, bracing breath and followed him. Arthur stood just inside the door, looking around with a focused intensity that would suggest he’d never set foot inside the physician’s chambers before. His gaze zeroed in on Merlin when he stepped off the stairs.

“So…” Arthur began, but didn’t follow it up with anything.

“Yep,” Merlin said, thinking he understood even if nothing was being said. This was undoubtedly a departure from the normal way of things.

“Just go,” Gaius said from where he was bent over his work.

The walk down to the courtyard was quiet. Arthur cleared his throat once, looking as if he were going to say something, but ended up just shaking his head. It was strange to arrive in the courtyard and see the horses packed and ready. Though the stableboy keeping an eye on Llamrei and Corra kept his head down, Merlin could see it was only to hide the off looks he kept sending them. Gods, Merlin hadn’t even considered the gossip. It would be all over the castle by now. Everyone would be speculating about what this meant.

Things were tense as they rode out of the courtyard, as they passed under the gate of the city wall, even when they left Camelot behind and entered the Darkling Woods.

“This is silly,” Merlin declared. Arthur frowned at him.

“What’s silly?” He sounded so anxious. “Do you want to go back?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Merlin said quickly. “I just mean…” He shook his head. “We’ve known each other for years now. We’ve even done this before, just the two of us coming out here. The only thing that’s different is that…”

“We’ve kissed,” Arthur finished quietly.

“Exactly.” Merlin took a deep breath. Then he blurted, “So obviously the solution to our problem is to kiss again.”

“What?” Arthur’s head snapped around and so he missed the low hanging branch right in front of him. Any other time Merlin would’ve laughed at the sight of the king with a mouthful of pine needles, but he was too focused on the conversation at hand.

“We should kiss again,” Merlin said. “In fact, we should kiss a lot more times. As many as it takes for it not to feel strange anymore.”

Arthur spat out the needles and cleared his throat. “Right. Yes. That makes sense.” Silence fell over them. When Merlin looked it was to see Arthur watching him, a poorly concealed smile on his face. In the next moment they both burst out laughing. Tension drained out of air between them and suddenly Merlin felt like he could breathe better. Perhaps this would go well after all. It was still strange, of course, but so were most new things. That didn’t make them bad.

-

As they rode through the woods, chatting about this and that and keeping an eye out for a good picnic spot, Arthur kept finding his mind drifting back to Merlin’s suggestion. He couldn’t tell if what Merlin had said had merely been for the sake of breaking the tension between them or if he really was interested in becoming more acquainted with kissing his king. He hoped it was the latter.

They stopped at a clearing a little ways into the woods. Merlin immediately set to unpacking the picnic, laying a large, thick blanket out by the stream. Arthur had considered having pillows and silverware and all manner of luxuries packed as well but Merlin had always rolled his eyes at it.

_“What?”_

_“I guess I just don’t see the point. It’s an awful lot of stuff to carry.”_

So Arthur had gone with simple. He tied the horses up and went to join Merlin on the blanket.

It was nice. Arthur could feel himself relaxing more and more as they ate and chatted. If he just thought of this as any other outing and not as a romantic one then the nerves stayed away as well. When they’d finished the food they remained in the clearing. Merlin leaned back on his hands, closed his eyes, and just breathed. There was a peaceful look on his face that Arthur didn’t think he’d ever seen in Camelot. It reminded him that he wasn’t the only one with burdens to carry. Merlin may not have the wellbeing of an entire kingdom resting on him, but he had plenty of other responsibilities to deal with.

A breeze picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees overhead and rolling in waves across the grass. Merlin shivered and Arthur frowned.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” Merlin said. “It’s just a bit chilly, that’s all.”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “We could go back to the citadel-“

“No, no,” Merlin quickly interrupted. “That’s not necessary. I don’t mind it really.”

Still frowning in concern Arthur eyed Merlin’s jacket. “Is that all you have?”

“What?” Merlin glanced down at his jacket. “Oh, yes.”

“You don’t have anything thicker? No winter cloak?”

Merlin snorted. “Me own a winter cloak? Do I look like I’m made of money?” He turned back to the river, still shivering occasionally, but looking content all the same. Arthur found himself tempted to scoot closer and pull Merlin into his arms, warm him up with shared body heat, but he lost his nerve before he even found it. Instead, he unclasped his cloak and draped it around Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin turned to him with a surprised look on his face.

“I don’t really need it,” Arthur said, trying for offhanded.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked, though he was already drawing the cloak more tightly around himself, snuggling into it. Arthur felt a sense of pride at seeing Merlin in a cloak of bright red with the golden Pendragon crest on it. It looked right.

“Quite sure. We should head back soon anyway, before it gets dark.”

-

When Gwen returned from the well to find Arthur standing outside her door she heaved an exasperated sigh. For all that she wanted her two dearest friends to find happiness, she was starting to regret telling Arthur he could come to her anytime he needed help. She’d already dealt with Merlin earlier that day. He’d pulled her into a storage room to babble on about how Arthur had kissed him a few weeks ago (a fact she hadn’t known and hadn’t really needed to hear about in such detail) and then about the outing to the forest yesterday and how he was pretty sure Arthur was courting him, but he wasn’t entirely sure and how should he even handle being courted what did people normally do when they were courted should he be courting Arthur back like sending him flowers and what would he even send Arthur anyway besides flowers?

Still, Gwen understood why Arthur couldn’t go to anyone else for help. This was such a personal matter, such an emotional one. Arthur could barely admit his feelings to himself, let alone others. They may not be in love anymore, but Gwen had still gotten a chance to know Arthur on a level that paled in comparison only to how well Merlin knew him. Which really just sort of made this whole thing hilarious when she thought about it.

“Come on in,” Gwen said and waited with a raised eyebrow and a few pointed looks at the heavy bucket she was carrying until Arthur got the hint and opened the door. “Is this about yesterday?”

“Yes and no,” Arthur said. “It has come to my attention that Merlin’s wardrobe is rather lacking in appropriate winter apparel.”

It sounded so formal and posh that Gwen had to choke back laughter. “This is true. Some of his income goes back to Ealdor and some of it goes into things for Gaius, since he doesn’t pay rent on his room. He could do with a good cloak, but it can be hard to justify spending money on something like that when you’re used to getting by without.”

“Could you make one?” Arthur asked. Then quickly added, “I would pay you, of course. However much you need for material and labor and all that. How much would you need?”

“Well that depends on the color of the material for one,” Gwen said. She felt a sense of pride that Arthur had come up with this on his own. Maybe now he’d see that he didn’t need to come to Gwen for advice all the time. He could handle this alright on his own.

Arthur hesitated. “I was thinking purple.”

“Purple,” Gwen repeated. Merlin had a purple tunic, an old cast off of Arthur’s, and it looked good on him. Garnered a few odd looks, sure, but from the worn state of it most people quickly realized it had been Arthur’s at some point and he’d merely grown out of it. A brand new winter cloak would be a different story though. “That’s a bold statement.”

“Perhaps boldness is just what the situation calls for,” Arthur said, shrugging.

Gwen smiled. “Boldness it is then. Now, did you have any specifics in mind? Other than the color, of course.”

-

Arthur was pacing when Gwen showed up, package in hand. He opened his mouth to snap that she was late before deciding that would be a terrible idea. It would just be his nerves talking.

Gwen took one look at him and said, “Relax, Arthur.”

“I feel like I’m making a fool of myself,” Arthur admitted. “I’m not, am I?” God, was he sweating? He was sweating. Perhaps he shouldn’t’ve put that extra log on the fire. First it had almost smothered the fire and now it had turned into a blazing inferno that looked like it was going to leap out of the hearth at any moment. Why had he done that? He should know better. After all, Arthur had made countless fires on hunting trips and patrols. Alright, he’d watching other people make countless fires on hunting trips and patrols, but that was beside the point. The point was that he was hot and sweaty and that was not how he wanted to start off the evening.

“I don’t even understand why you’re so nervous,” Gwen said. “It’s just Merlin.”

But Arthur shook his head. “It’s different.”

“Why? What makes it different? Are you honestly telling me you’ve never invited Merlin to join you for dinner?”

“No, I have.”

“So how is tonight different?”

Arthur started to worry his lip between his teeth before he realized what he was doing and stopped. He could tell Gwen. Other than Merlin, it was Gwen who knew him best. He’d never let anyone that close before.

“I’m going to say it,” Arthur announced. Gwen frowned.

“Going to say what?” But in the next moment her eyes widened in realization and a soft, “oh,” escaped her. Arthur had taken Merlin on several more outings since that first awkward picnic in the woods, sent him several gifts and received gifts in return. He’d thought the words ‘I love you’ thousands of times, but they would always stick in his throat. They were caught though in this awkward courting stage and Arthur had the feeling that finally giving voice to the feelings he’d recognized nearly a month ago now was the push they needed to move forward.

“I keep wondering if this is all a fluke,” Arthur found himself saying. “Maybe Merlin is just going along with it all because he feels like he has to.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Gwen said. “Merlin doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. For instance, if Merlin really never wanted to muck out your horses he would have reminded you by now that there are stable hands who get paid specifically to maintain all the palace’s stables. But even though scooping horse manure isn’t fun, Merlin doesn’t mind doing it because he likes spending time with your horses, talking to them, grooming them, giving them treats.”

“He does what?” Arthur squawked. “No wonder Llamrei loves him so much! That little sneak has been buying her affection!”

Gwen laughed. “Like I said, Merlin doesn’t do things he doesn’t want to do. He would’ve come to me immediately asking for tips on how to turn you down nicely if he didn’t want you courting him. Instead, he asked me what sort of gifts were appropriate to give to a king who can already buy whatever he pleases.”

“So the book of pressed flowers was your idea?” It was Arthur’s favorite gift so far. While out collecting herbs for Gaius Merlin had also collected all manner of flowers and pressed them into a book. Most of the book was still blank, as there weren’t as many flowers in bloom in the winter as there would be come spring, but Merlin had promised that as soon as he started noticing more blooms he would add to the book.

“No, he came up with that by himself. Unlike you, Merlin doesn’t need so much handholding. I just told him that he should focus on gifts of meaning and importance, rather than worth. The same kind of advice I gave you, actually.” Gwen smiled. “You don’t have any cause to be so worried, Arthur. Merlin knows you better than anyone. He wouldn’t still be here if he didn’t love you.” Arthur took a deep breath, returning Gwen’s smile.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” he asked. Gwen shrugged. “Well, thank you, Guinevere.”

“Anytime.” She held out the package. “Here. I made a few modifications to the design to make it more versatile. After all, I don’t think Merlin has any cloak to speak of, much less one for winter.”

“Versatile?” Arthur repeated.

“The lining can be detached so it can be worn at other times of the year.”

“Ah. Good thinking.” He reached out to take the package.

Gwen’s hands tightened on the package and her expression grew serious. “Listen Arthur,” she said and there was a dangerous edge to her tone Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before, “I’m going to be blunt with you about this matter. I care about Merlin as if he were my brother. Things will not be easy for a long time. Camelot is transitioning into a new era and you are leading that transition. I know how uncertain you can be about yourself sometimes, even though there’s no need for it. And I know that when you get frustrated or scared you can lash out at those around you. But so help me god, if you hurt Merlin nothing on this earth will save you from my wrath. Do we understand each other?” Arthur gaped for a moment. He’d expected to get the lecture from Gaius, who thought of Merlin as a son. He’d expected to get it from Gwaine as well, seeing as he and Merlin had always shared a close friendship. And, if he were being honest, he’d expected to hear something similar from Gwen. Just not something that actually made him fear for his life.

“We understand each other,” Arthur finally said. Gwen’s expression softened into a smile again and she released her hold on the package.

“Good.”

“Just out of curiosity, does Merlin get this talk from you as well?”

“I don’t think there’s any need.” At Arthur’s confused frown, Gwen elaborated. “He’s always been loyal to you Arthur. He’s always done his best to be there for you, to support you, even protect you.” Her eyes darted to the side. “Although to be perfectly honest I did say something to him a short while ago. Just to be sure. You’re both my friends and I don’t want either of you hurting the other. Now, I think it high time I left.” She swept from the room and Arthur’s smile lingered a bit longer before it dawned on him that the next person to walk through that door would be Merlin. He set the package down and began to pace again until the door opened, creaking a bit on its hinges.

Arthur was seized with an attack of self consciousness again. There were too many candles. The furs draped over the chairs weren’t soft enough. Hell, they’d probably just make them feel overheated with the too warm fire in the hearth. The meal was wrong. He was just making a fool of himself, trying too hard, and it was all going to backfire-

“Wow, this all looks wonderful,” Merlin said, coming further into the room as the door fell shut behind him. “I always knew you were a romantic sap at heart.” The teasing might’ve raised Arthur’s hackles a bit were it not for the beautiful smile on Merlin’s face. Gwen was right. He was overreacting.

When they’d finished with dinner Merlin leaned back in his chair and gave Arthur a knowing look. “You really don’t have to try so hard to impress me, you know. I’ve been cleaning your dirty underthings for six years now.” Arthur choked on his wine.

“That’s not what this is,” he denied. “And really, Merlin?”

“Right, you lit a bunch of candles and had Audrey prepare my favorite kind of rabbit- which you no doubt had to go out and catch personally which I bet is why I couldn’t find you at all this afternoon- just to not impress me, is that it?” Merlin shook his head. “I’m serious though. If I didn’t want you courting me I’d probably have asked Gwen for advice on the best way to turn you down a long time ago.”

“That’s exactly what she said earlier.”

“Gwen was here earlier? Is she the one you made set out all the candles?”

Arthur frowned. “No, I did that myself, thank you very much. Gwen was here for a different reason.”

“And that reason is?”

Some of the nerves from earlier returned. Arthur took a bracing gulp of his wine before getting up and retrieving the package. He handed it to Merlin. “She was delivering this.”

Merlin stared at the package. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

“Yes, but what kind of gift?”

“Well, Merlin, you’ll just have to open it and find out won’t you?”

Merlin stuck his tongue out before turning his attention to carefully unwrapping the gift. At first he frowned at the pile of fabric, but then he held it up and his eyes went wide. “A cloak?”

“You don’t have one,” Arthur rushed to explain. “And considering how much time you spend out in the woods looking for herbs or accompanying me on hunts and patrols you should really have something more than that jacket to keep you warm. Plus, Gwen said she made it so you can remove the lining and use it any time of year. Also we both agreed that purple is a good color for you, although if you’d like another color I suppose I could always-”

“Arthur,” Merlin interrupted. There was a grin stretched across his face. “You do realize you’re rambling, don’t you?”

“Kings don’t ramble,” Arthur dismissed, too caught up in staring at Merlin’s gorgeous smile to really think about what he’d just said. Merlin laughed.

“Well apparently this one does. In any case, you don’t need to ask anyone to make a whole new cloak. I love it.” Merlin stood, carefully setting the cloak on the chair. He wound his arms around Arthur’s neck. And instead of the thank you Arthur had expected Merlin said, “I love you.”

Arthur thought his heart must’ve skipped a beat as his breath stuttered in his chest. A very tiny part of him, the part that would probably always be a bit of a spoiled prat, was irritated that he’d gone through the trouble of arranging this evening with the intention of declaring his feelings, only for Merlin to beat him to it. The rest of him told that part to shut up before insisting that now would be the perfect time to kiss Merlin. So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, according to the Merlin wiki Audrey is the name of the head cook in Camelot. You know, the scary lady in the kitchen who would probably knife even the king himself for trying to knick her food.


	2. His Father's Son

-

Maybe Arthur hadn’t entirely thought this through when he’d asked Merlin to help them draw a group of Caerleon’s men into a trap by being the bait. When his lover had disappeared with nothing but a cheeky grin and a flick of Arthur’s red cloak, the king had sat still for all of five minutes before spending the rest of the time pacing across the forest floor, much to the annoyance of his knights. He’d always worried about Merlin on their various quests and expeditions, but it was different now that he’d committed to this courtship. There was something at once intensely satisfying and viciously terrifying about admitting your feelings for someone. Even more so in following through on them. So Arthur paced until Leon grabbed him by the arm and asked would he please remain still and stop agitating the men. Merlin would be fine, Merlin was always fine. 

“He is very resourceful,” Leon had said. “Trust him to do his part.” Arthur nodded stiffly and forced himself to stay still. It wasn’t easy. Particularly when Merlin, apparently in top form today, tripped over backwards and nearly got himself impaled by an ax. But Arthur waited, even when the Caerleon knights had trapped Merlin at a dead end. This is the plan, he reminded himself, signaling his men to ready themselves. _This is the plan and I am not going to ruin it by jumping in too soon._

The leader of the group stepped forward. “Trapped, are we?” he said, looking entirely too smug. Arthur gave the signal and one of his men loosed a crossbow bolt, taking down an enemy knight. The knights of Camelot made themselves known along the ridge of the ditch. 

“That’s the idea,” Merlin taunted and Arthur took that as their cue.

-

Merlin didn’t know whether or not he should feel surprised that Arthur chose to take council with Agravaine about the matter of their royal prisoner. His gut reaction had been that of course he would seek his uncle’s opinion, with a unique edge of sarcasm he’d become accustomed to hearing from his inner thoughts since Agravaine’s arrival in Camelot. He understood why Arthur sought the man’s advice, certainly, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. For now though, he set about tending to the camp while listening with one ear to the conversation.

“He took a grave risk coming this far,” Arthur said.

“Perhaps he doesn’t see it that way.” Merlin glanced just briefly over his shoulder at Agravaine, lips pressed into a thin displeased line at the words. Something told him he wouldn’t like where this conversations was headed. “I fear it is no coincidence that all this has happened since Uther’s death.”

“What do you mean?”

“Arthur, your father was a strong king. His enemies feared and respected that strength.” Merlin wasn’t so sure about respect, but fear had certainly played a major factor in Uther’s reign. It was something he was sure none of Camelot’s people missed. 

“Are you saying I’m not worthy of that respect?” Were the conversation not of such a serious nature, Merlin might have been tempted to laugh at the offended tone in Arthur’s voice. It was a more subdued form of the tone usually reserved for such declarations as “I am _not_ fat!” 

“No, sire, not at all. There isn’t a citizen in Camelot who would not lay down their life for you.” There was the clanking sound of shifting armor as Agravaine moved to stand in front of Arthur. “But to your enemies, to the enemies of Camelot, you are still untested as a king. You must send a clear message that any action against Camelot will be met without mercy.” Merlin wanted to jump up and interrupt the conversation before it went any further. There was no doubt in his mind about what Agravaine would suggest the message be. 

“Did we not achieve that here today?” _Yes_ , Merlin wanted to say, _we did._

“No, sire. Not enough to deter the likes of Odin and Bayard and countless others who covet Camelot’s wealth.” The more Merlin listened, the harder it was to concentrate on the tasks he was supposed to be tending to. 

“What do you suggest?”

“I suggest…I suggest we force him to accept a treaty on our terms. He must withdraw his men out of our land, return territories to us. He must surrender Everwick.”

“He’d rather die than agree to such terms.” And that, Merlin feared, was Agravaine’s point.

“Then you are left with no choice.”

The tense silence that followed was telling. “I can’t just kill a man in cold blood.” For a moment, Merlin held hope that that would be the end of it. 

“Arthur, you must do what you need to do to assert your authority on this land.”

“Well there must be another way.”

“There is no other way.” Merlin glanced over his shoulder again. From this angle, he couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but he could imagine the torn look it would hold as Arthur fought between his uncle’s advice and his own moral standards. “Think on it. Decide by tomorrow.” Agravaine moved away to settle down for the night, leaving Arthur to sit on the log by the fire and contemplate. Merlin took the opportunity to approach under the guise of doing something by the fire. 

“Arthur,” he said. 

“Not now Merlin,” Arthur said almost immediately. Merlin swallowed back a whole host of insults and the desire to wake the settling knights by shouting them at his king. Agravaine is wrong, he wanted to snap. But he knew that tone of voice from Arthur. It brooked no arguments, not even from Merlin, whose input the king normally welcomed, especially on matters like this where there was so much at stake. Merlin couldn’t help but feel angry at the easy dismissal. It was the kind you would give a lowly servant and while that may be Merlin’s official position, Arthur had always endeavored to treat him more as an equal, even more so now that he had started courting him. But he dutifully stayed silent, leaving Arthur to his thoughts while he bedded down for the night.

-

Merlin woke in the early hours of the morning to the sight of an untouched bedroll beside his own. Blinking the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, he frowned. Arthur clearly hadn’t gone to bed last night. Not unless he had mastered the art of sleeping sitting up by the fire, where Merlin finally spotted him. He looked like he hadn’t moved since Merlin had left him last night. Quietly, Merlin got up and filled a cup with water.

“Arthur?” he ventured, approaching the king. He seemed not to have heard him. “Arthur.” Arthur blinked, withdrawing from his thoughts and finally looking away from the fire. Merlin held the cup out. “Here.” 

“Thank you,” Arthur muttered absently, taking it. 

“You must be cold,” Merlin commented and moved to build the fire back up. They’d need it for breakfast anyway. He glanced back over his shoulder, taking in the bags under Arthur’s eyes and the tired slump of his shoulders. “Have you not slept at all?” 

“Been thinking.” 

“About what Agravaine said?” 

Arthur nodded, but volunteered nothing further. Merlin resisted the urge to strangle him, mostly because that was treason and some of the knights may not take kindly to it. It was like pulling teeth though. He reminded himself that though they’d known each other for years now their relationship was still new. 

“So, what are you going to do?” Merlin prodded. He would drag it out of Arthur if it took all morning. 

“My father was a great king,” Arthur began. “But I don’t have his wisdom or his conviction. I can only follow his example and do what he would have done.”

Merlin’s stomach sank at the words. “You’re going to draw up this...treaty?” he asked and it took effort to keep how distasteful he found this decision from his voice.

Arthur nodded. “Have to show my strength. Show that I’m worthy of my father’s name.” 

“Caerleon won’t sign it,” Merlin pointed out, just as Arthur had done last night to Agravaine. He could hardly believe these words were coming out of Arthur’s mouth. This wasn’t like him.

“Caerleon brought this upon himself,” Arthur said firmly. 

“Arthur, you’ve always shown mercy in battle. You’ve never sought to humiliate your enemies in this way. This isn’t like you. This isn’t who you-”

Arthur’s voice was biting when he cut Merlin off. “You have no idea what is to make these decision, decisions that will shape the future of this land.” 

“Arthur-”

“So please, stick to what you do know.” He got up, downed the rest of the water, and walked away. Merlin kept his frustration in check only because they weren’t alone out here. 

When he made breakfast his movements were more forceful than necessary, earning him raised eyebrows from the knights he was serving. “Sorry,” he mumbled, when a bit of porridge splashed up and hit Elyan’s cheek. 

“Are you alright, Merlin?” Elyan asked, wiping the porridge away. 

“Peachy,” he replied and hoped Elyan could hear the sarcasm dripping from his tone. 

“You aren’t happy with Arthur’s decision?” Gwaine guessed. “What do you think we should do?” 

It was an honest question and Merlin knew Gwaine cared about his opinion, as did the other three knights who were watching him in varying degrees of concern, but he still snapped, “My opinion doesn’t seem to matter,” while violently slinging porridge into Gwaine’s bowl, then hauling the pot away to be washed. By the time the treaty was drawn up and Caerleon was brought into the clearing Merlin’s temper had settled. In its place was a twisting anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Standing between Gwaine and Elyan he watched Agravaine present the treaty to the captured king. 

“What is this?” Caerleon demanded. Leon stepped forward to take it, unrolling the scroll briskly and holding it up for Caerleon to read. The king’s face twisted in displeasure. “You expect me to sign this? To humiliate myself before you?” 

“You invaded our kingdom. Took what did not belong to you,” Agravaine answered. 

“And if I do not sign?”

“Then you will pay. With your life.” 

Caerleon scoffed. “And who makes these terms?”

Agravaine moved aside as Arthur stepped forward, face set in determination and looking every bit the leader he was. Normally Merlin would feel a sense of pride at a moment like this, but now all he felt was trepidation. “Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.” 

Caerleon eyed Arthur. “Very well.” He pushed Leon’s arm aside and approached. Percival followed, but Caerleon shook him off until he was standing before Arthur. “Then make it quick.” He dropped to his knees. 

“Think what you’re doing, Caerleon,” Arthur tried to reason. “This treaty could seal a truce between us. There would be peace, just as there was between your father and mine.” 

“I am not my father,” Caerleon sneered. “And you are not Uther.” Arthur said nothing. Merlin could read the conflict in his eyes and held on to the hope that good judgement would win out over Agravaine’s poisonous influence. But then Caerleon threw out a taunt, a challenge. “You really have the guts to kill me?” And Merlin knew Arthur wouldn’t see backing down as an option anymore. 

“You leave me no choice.”

“You do not choose anything boy,” Caerleon snapped. “It is I who choose to die and I alone. Now get on with it.” He bowed his head. 

Arthur’s face hardened into the mask of an indifferent king. “So be it.”

-

Merlin refused to even look at him the entire journey back to Camelot. He rode towards the back of their party, not speaking to anyone, even when Gwaine dropped back to join him. Arthur told himself it didn’t bother him. He’d done what was necessary. One day Merlin would understand what Arthur had to sacrifice to rule. Proving his strength was a necessary part of becoming king. Even so, guilt niggled at the back of Arthur’s mind.

_You’ve never sought to humiliate your enemies in this way._

Merlin finally broke his silence the afternoon of their return, when they were alone in Arthur’s chambers. He was unpacking, folding one of Arthur’s tunics and stowing it away in the wardrobe when he said, “Can’t have been easy, having a man killed like that.”

Arthur looked up from where he was washing the dirt from his face. He was equal parts elated that Merlin was speaking to him again and wary of the unreadable tone of his voice. “I had no choice,” he said easily. “A show of strength was necessary.” 

“Don’t you think compassion can also show strength?”

“Not for the likes of Caerleon, no.” He turned to look at Merlin over by the bed, paused in front of the bags. “No, an example had to be made for the good of the kingdom.”

Merlin cast his eyes to the side for a moment, then picked up another shirt and returned to the wardrobe. “So you don’t regret what you did.”

Arthur finished drying his face with a clean cloth and sighed. Merlin’s questions were beginning to irritate him. “My conscious is clean, Merlin, which is more than I can say for my rooms. So just…do your job, will you.” It was perhaps not the most tactful thing to say to the one he was courting and the narrow eyed glance Merlin sent him said as much, but Arthur was tired of the questioning. 

“Look, I’m just saying if there’s something bothering you, you can talk to me,” Merlin persisted. “You shouldn’t push your friends away, not now, not when you need them most.”

“You’re wrong, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I don’t need anyone, I can’t afford that luxury. The kingdom is my responsibility and mine to bear alone. And you must learn to accept that.” He tossed the cloth on the table and walked away, telling himself he wasn’t affected by the hurt in Merlin’s eyes. This was how it had to be.

-

It was getting late when Arthur was startled out of his work by a knock on the door of the council chambers. He looked up to see Agravaine entering the room.

“Good evening, my lord,” Agravaine greeted.

“Good evening, uncle,” Arthur returned. He observed the hesitant look on his uncle’s face. “What is it?”

“There is something I wish to discuss with you,” Agravaine confessed. “But it is a delicate matter.”

Arthur gestured for him to continue. “Yes?” 

“It concerns Merlin.” 

That took Arthur by surprise. “What about him?”

“Well, he is a handsome young man, sire,” Agravaine began, coming closer. Arthur couldn’t fathom where he was going with such a comment. “And possessed of many fine qualities, I have no doubt. But he is a servant.” 

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Arthur dismissed. 

“Nor to me,” Agravaine quickly assured him. “It’s just your people that concern me.” 

Arthur sat back in his chair, frowning now. “Well surely as king I can do as I see fit.”

“No, sire,” Agravaine corrected. “You cannot. You must do what is expected of you. You must present yourself in an appropriate manner. The people- your people, do not wish to see their king with a common serving boy.”

“This isn’t a matter of state,” Arthur insisted. “This is a matter of the heart.”

“You cannot rule the kingdom with your heart, Arthur.” Agravaine gave him a significant look. “Your father understood that.”

Arthur looked away for a moment, trying to gather himself. He had long believed that his marriage should be a matter of love, not politics. Merlin had stood behind him on that. As had Guinevere and his knights. While he thought, Agravaine took the chair to his left. 

“You didn’t want to kill Caerleon, I know that,” his uncle said soothingly, and unbidden, memories of his conversation with Merlin from that afternoon came back to him, along with the guilt he’d been harboring since seeing the hurt in his lover’s eyes. “But you were strong. You didn’t let those emotions cloud your judgement. You ruled with your head, like a strong king must.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed quietly. He was starting to hate it when his uncle was right.

“Now you must show that strength again. Set aside personal feelings for the good of your kingdom.”

“Set aside my feelings for Merlin,” Arthur clarified. 

Agravaine looked regretful. “I’m afraid so, my lord.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, hardly noticing when Agravaine took his leave. Just when he had gotten used to the idea of being with Merlin reality had to come marching in and rip that vision to pieces.

-

Arthur put it off until after supper when he went to stand by the fire while Merlin gathered the dirty plates. He stared apprehensively into the flames, lost in his thoughts, until a hand on his arm made him jump. Merlin peered at him with concern.

“Is something the matter, Arthur?” he asked. Arthur found himself paralyzed for a few long seconds as he just looked at Merlin.

“I wish to apologize,” he finally said. Merlin looked taken aback. 

“Apologize?” the servant repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d heard right. “Are you ill? Do you have a fever?” Merlin placed the back of his hand against Arthur’s forehead and the king smiled, even as he rolled his eyes. 

“I am not ill, Merlin,” he said, gently taking Merlin’s hand from his forehead. He didn’t have the heart to let go of it yet. Merlin didn’t seem to mind. “I’ve simply had some time to think about what I said this afternoon. It was…”

“Rude?” Merlin supplied. 

“Yes, rude. And tactless. For that I am sorry.” 

Merlin still looked a little thrown, but he smiled and said, “I accept your apology. Is that all?”

Arthur swallowed back his doubts. This had to be done. “There is something else. Merlin...please believe me when I say you’ve done nothing wrong.” The smile started to slip from Merlin’s face. Arthur plowed on. “And that none of this has anything to do with you.”

“None of what?” Merlin asked warily. “I don’t understand.”

“Things have changed for me. With my father gone it falls to me to rule this land.”

Merlin wasn’t quite frowning, but he was clearly confused, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. “I know what a responsibility that must be.”

“And now that I’m king it is no longer relevant what I may or may not want for myself.” 

Suspicion entered Merlin’s eyes at those words, but he kept quiet.

“My only duty is to the people of this land. I’ll be judged by my actions, who I’m seen with.”

“So you’re saying you’re...ashamed to be seen with me?” Merlin asked. “As your lover?”

“No,” Arthur said quickly, holding tight when Merlin tried to pull his hand away. “No. But because I am king it’s not appropriate.”

“I’m not appropriate,” Merlin said and this time Arthur let his hand slip from his grasp. 

Arthur struggled for a moment against the lump in his throat. “It seems not.” 

Merlin took a step back. Then another. “Are you even listening to yourself?” he said. 

“I have to think of my people, Merlin. Sometimes that means having to give things up, even if I don’t want to.” 

For a long moment Merlin simply stood by the table, staring down at the wood without seeing it. Finally he said, “And you think this will make you a better king? Pushing away the people who care about you?”

“I cannot rule my kingdom with my heart, Merlin,” Arthur said. It frightened him that he couldn’t read the expression on Merlin’s face. Since when had Merlin become so good at hiding his feelings?

“Is that what you think?” Merlin asked, and at last he looked at Arthur. “Or is that what Agravaine told you to think?”

Anger lanced through Arthur, hot and wild. “How dare you speak that way to me,” he said, low, dangerous, and now he could see anger breaking out on Merlin’s face, lighting his eyes up. 

“Someone has to,” he said. 

“Get out!”

And to his surprise, Merlin did. There was no argument, no last insult, no cutting comeback. Merlin just snatched the dinner dishes up from the table and whisked them out of the room. The moment the door slammed shut all the anger left Arthur, to be replaced by a hollow feeling. Was this really what it meant to be king? Making decisions that sat uncomfortably in your stomach and hurting those you loved? Arthur remembered once declaring that sometimes he wanted to run away and become a farmer. And Merlin had laughed and said Arthur wouldn’t last a day. But farming had to be easier than being king.

-

Gaius was still up when Arthur finally gathered the courage to seek Merlin out. He’d been so resolute in his decision, so determined to do what was necessary for his kingdom. He hadn’t expected it to leave him feeling so hollow. The past few hours had been a battle between doing what his uncle told him was right and what his heart told him was right. In the end, his heart won. Imagining a world without Merlin by his side was too painful.

“Merlin’s in his room,” Gaius said before Arthur could even open his mouth. He didn’t look at the king, but the frown he was directing at his work looked quite disapproving and Arthur suddenly remembered the stern lecture he’d gotten about treating the old physician’s ward properly. 

“Right, thanks,” Arthur said. He ascended the short staircase and gingerly opened the door.

“Go away Gaius,” Merlin said. He was facing away from the door, curled up on his bed. 

“I’m not Gaius,” Arthur corrected. He cleared his throat. “May I come in?” When he got no response he hesitantly closed the door behind him and went to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. He reached out a hand, let it hover over Merlin’s shoulder for a long moment, then withdrew it. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for my kingdom,” Arthur finally said. He wasn’t sure Merlin had heard, but then he rolled over to stare up at the king with a searching expression. The guilt intensified when Arthur saw that Merlin had been crying. 

“You are not your father,” Merlin said. “Compassion and love are not weaknesses. Showing compassion to your enemies takes great strength, as does loving someone.”

Arthur looked down, smoothing his hand over the course blanket. The mattress shifted as Merlin sat up. “Arthur,” Merlin said softly, “I know Agravaine is your uncle and his opinion matters a great deal to you. But the way you’ve been acting these last few days…I hardly recognize you. Look me in the eye and tell me that you think killing Caerleon was the right thing to do. Tell me that you don’t think we can be together.” And Arthur did. Look Merlin in the eye, that is. The words, however, refused to leave his mouth. He did regret killing Caerleon. He did want to be with Merlin.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he said instead, ignoring the strangled quality of the words. Merlin studied him carefully.

“When your father arranged for you to marry Elena, you didn’t go through with it. Because you didn’t love her. Because it wasn’t what you wanted. You told Uther that when you were king you would be a much better king for the strength and support of someone you love.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”

Merlin cupped his cheek gently in his hand. “You weren’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t isolate yourself, Arthur. Don’t push people away. None of us are strong enough to carry our burdens alone and we shouldn’t try.” There was something old and weary in Merlin’s voice, that strange brand of wisdom he came out with whenever Arthur needed it most. One day Arthur would learn where that wisdom came from, but for now he was simply grateful it existed. He rested his forehead against Merlin’s, eyes falling shut.

“I know Agravaine is very dear to you,” Merlin continued, tone full of caution. “That doesn’t mean he’s always right. None of us are.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur mumbled. He heard Merlin laugh and opened his eyes to see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Two apologies in one night,” Merlin pointed out. “Are you sure you aren’t ill?”

Arthur chuckled. “Quite sure.” He hesitated, leaning back a little as he chewed his next question in his mouth a bit.

“You can’t possibly make anymore of an ass of yourself than you already have tonight,” Merlin said. “Out with it.” 

Arthur sighed. “Will you...will you come stay the night with me?” The corners of Merlin’s mouth dipped down in a frown as he thought it over. 

“Honestly, I’m still a little upset,” Merlin said. “I think I would rather be alone tonight.” Arthur tried not to look too crushed, taking heart in the reluctance he could hear in Merlin’s tone. He could well understand it though. He had said quite a number of awful things to Merlin as of late. 

“I understand.” After some hesitation Arthur leaned forward to press a kiss to Merlin’s temple. “I will see you in the morning then?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Arthur.” 

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

-

Merlin felt bad for the poor squire conscripted to steady the punching bag while Arthur went at it. Normally it would’ve been him who was responsible for that, but Arthur must have still been feeling bad for the whole situation from the previous night. When they’d set foot on the training grounds the king had told him to just take it easy, a squire could help him with anything he needed.

“You seem tense,” Merlin observed. 

Arthur didn’t even glance away from the punching bag. “What do you mean, tense?” 

“You know,” Merlin continued, searching for adjectives. “Agitated, on edge, angry.” 

“This is not anger, Merlin,” Arthur corrected. His punches became fiercer and the squire was starting to look seriously concerned for his safety. “This is controlled aggression!” On the last word, Arthur threw a punch hard enough to detach the punching bag and send the squire sprawling. 

“Great, glad we cleared that up,” Merlin said. Arthur had the decency to look mildly guilty. 

“Would you like me to reattach the punching bag, sire?” the squire asked, sounding like he wanted to do anything but. Before Arthur could answer, Leon appeared, striding across the training field. The concerned frown on his face did nothing to ease the mood. 

“Sire, a messenger only this minute arrived,” Leon reported. 

“What is it?” Arthur asked. 

“An army. They crossed our border at first light.”

Arthur glanced Merlin’s way and he could read the worry in the king’s eyes loud and clear. “An army? Who’s army?”

“Caerleon’s queen.”

Retaliation for her husband’s execution, no doubt. But Merlin didn’t say that. He was sure Arthur was already thinking it and what was done was done. Agonizing over the decisions that had brought Camelot to this place would accomplish nothing. Better to look forward, to what they could do now to protect the kingdom. And first would be convening the council of war.

-

Arthur’s chambers were subdued that night. Merlin was there, much to his pleasure, but he was quiet as he went about turning down the bed. Many times Arthur turned to face him, opening his mouth to say something, but words escaped him. He didn’t know what to say, only that he felt like he’d done nothing but fail his people as of late, no matter how much Agravaine praised his actions. His uncle’s advice had always been of value to him, but perhaps Merlin was right. Perhaps he was following it a bit too blindly. He jumped when a hand brushed his.

“Stop overthinking it,” Merlin said. “What’s done is done. You can’t go back and change the past.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.” He began to fiddle with the ring on his thumb, frowned. 

“Here, why don’t you ready for bed,” Merlin suggested. Arthur went through the motions mechanically, lifting his arms to let Merlin pull his tunic over his head, stepping out of his breeches when they dropped to the floor, putting on the sleeping clothes he was handed. When Merlin turned away Arthur caught his arm. 

“Stay with me tonight,” he requested. “Please.” Merlin searched his face, then nodded. Arthur hesitated, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to Merlin’s cheek before going to the bed. He watched Merlin shed his clothes and don one of Arthur’s old sleeping tunics and a worn pair of breeches. Though they fit his height, Merlin was thinner than Arthur and so it didn’t take much to persuade the shirt to slip down and reveal a pale shoulder. Merlin didn’t bother fixing it. Arthur held the covers open and Merlin crawled between them, curling against his side contentedly. Quiet fell over them for a time.

“Will you be riding out with us tomorrow?” Arthur asked after a time. Merlin stirred against him and Arthur realized he had probably fallen asleep. 

“What?” Merlin picked his head up from Arthur’s shoulder to look at him and yes, he had definitely been asleep. 

Arthur shook his head. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, Merlin.”

“You’ve already woken me,” Merlin said. “May as well tell me.”

“I just…” Arthur cleared his throat. “I wondered if you will be riding out with us to the encampment tomorrow.”

Merlin looked at him like he was daft. "Of course I'll be riding out with you. As if I'd let you wander off to a war all by yourself. Who would dress you and keep you out of trouble?" Arthur released a breath of a relief as Merlin rested his head back on his shoulder. “Now go to sleep. You won’t be of much use to your men if you don’t get some rest.”

“As you say, love,” Arthur murmured. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Merlin’s head, grateful that he hadn’t damaged their relationship as much as he’d thought. He'd made so many poor choices recently and Merlin had been so distant with him he'd feared he'd messed up what they had before it really got a chance to grow. One day, Arthur knew, Merlin's forgiving nature would run out. It already seemed stretched thin these days. Perhaps he would manage to get things right for once before that day came.

-

A war camp was a strange place. The atmosphere was tense with the anticipation of the coming battle, but Merlin could hear laughter coming from the fires scattered about. He supposed you had to laugh about it. Sometimes humor was the only way to make staring death in the face easier. He himself was seated at a smaller fire with Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Leon, listening to one of Gwaine’s many tavern tales. Merlin was convinced at least half of them were made up, but it was difficult to tell and what did it really matter anyway? Real or not, the stories were always entertaining. As the men threw their heads back, roaring with laughter, Merlin found his eyes drawn to the entrance of the king’s tent.

Arthur stood there, watching them. He’d been quiet and withdrawn since leaving Camelot early that morning. Their eyes met and Merlin saw the smallest of smiles pull at Arthur’s lips before the king turned away.

“Is he alright?” Gwaine asked. Merlin tore his eyes away from where Arthur had disappeared to find the knights all watching him. 

“He’s our king,” Merlin said. “If anything were to happen to any of us, he’ll hold himself responsible.” Gwaine nodded. The others looked thoughtful. Merlin stood. “I’ll see you all in the morning, then.” He exchanged good nights and slipped into the royal tent. Arthur glanced at him.

“You can stay out there longer if you wish,” he said. 

“I could,” Merlin agreed. He approached Arthur, reaching up to cradle his face in his hands. “Are you alright?” Arthur covered Merlin’s hands with his own. He turned his head, kissing Merlin’s palm. 

“The battle tomorrow will not be easy,” Arthur confessed. 

“I have faith in you,” Merlin said. “As do all your men.”

“Faith will not keep them from dying.” Sighing, he pulled away, going to sit in a chair. He seemed lost in thought and Merlin left him to it for now. Sometimes Arthur needed to run his mind in circles for a bit before he was willing to let himself be pulled out of it. In the meantime, Merlin went to tend to the chainmail and armor his king would wear into battle. He was quite absorbed in what he viewed as one of his most important duties when he was distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps. The knights stepped into the tent, Elyan at the lead. Over by the table where they’d been planning strategy earlier Arthur roused himself from his thoughts.

“Elyan,” he acknowledged, sitting straighter. 

“Sire,” Elyan returned. He glanced back at Gwaine, Percival, and Leon. 

“Well?” Arthur prompted. 

“We just want you to know there isn’t a man among us who wouldn’t die for you,” Elyan said. Merlin ceased his work and turned to listen. “We made our pledge and we wear the Pendragon crest with pride. Tomorrow, we fight in your name, sire, for freedom and justice in this land.”

Arthur looked touched by the words. “Thank you, Elyan.” His eyes moved over the other knights. “Thank you all.” Each man inclined his head respectfully before exiting the tent. When they’d gone, Arthur’s expression grew troubled. 

“They mean it, sire,” Merlin spoke up. “Every word.” He came to sit across from Arthur.

“I never once questioned their loyalty,” Arthur said. “I do wonder if I deserve it.”

Merlin picked up Arthur’s sword, intending to give it a good sharpening and polish before the battle, pausing to make a point. “No one could care more for their men than you do. To send them into battle is not a decision that you would make lightly. They know that.”

“But was it the right decision?” Arthur challenged. 

“If there was any other way out this situation you would take it, but you must defend Camelot. You have no choice.” Merlin turned his attention to the sword.

“I had a choice,” Arthur said, looking over at him. “To let Caerleon live or die.” Merlin looked up, sword once again forgotten. The next words lingered on the tip of Arthur’s tongue. “I made the wrong decision. And now I’ve brought this war upon Camelot myself.”

A small smile touched Merlin’s lips. “It takes a man of great strength and courage to admit he was wrong. As I said before though, you can’t change the past. What’s most important now is how you move forward from here.” He set the sword aside and went to kneel by Arthur’s chair. “If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that no one is prepared to sacrifice more for the sake of this kingdom than you. Your decision was made in the best interest of Camelot.”

Arthur took the hand Merlin had rested on his knee. “Maybe. But now my men must pay for it with their lives.” There was so much pain in his eyes and Merlin knew there was nothing he could do to make it go away. But he thought perhaps he could ease it for a time with a distraction. He got up and tugged Arthur out of his chair.

“Come to bed with me,” Merlin entreated softly. Arthur resisted, but Merlin didn’t let go. “Come make love to me.” Bit by bit, Arthur allowed Merlin to lead him to the bed where they stripped out of their clothes and fell onto the mattress together.

-

Merlin woke when he felt Arthur roll away from him, his weight leaving the bed a moment later. Blinking sleep from his eyes Merlin shifted onto his back and watched Arthur slide his feet into his boots and don a cloak.

“Where’re you going?” Merlin asked. Arthur froze, clearly not having expected his lover to be awake. A moment later he continued preparing to leave. Merlin noted that he glanced at his sword, but didn’t take it. “Arthur?”

“Go back to sleep Merlin,” Arthur said, but the more the situation registered in Merlin’s mind the more awake he became.

“It’s the middle of the night, Arthur, where are you going?” he asked again, sitting up. Arthur sighed. He came over to sit on the edge of the bed, gently cupping Merlin’s cheek in his hand. 

“There’s something I have to do,” the king said quietly. 

“And what would that something be?” Merlin pressed.

“Just stay here and go back to sleep,” Arthur insisted. 

“You are not doing much to reassure me. I cannot sleep when I’m worried.”

Arthur’s thumb stroked over his cheekbone. “This is my fault,” he said. “I have put the lives of my men, of my people, in danger because of my foolish actions. I cannot bear the thought of so many dying for my mistake.”

Realization was dawning on Merlin. “You're going to speak to Queen Annis.” It came out far more accusing than he meant it to be. Arthur leaned his forehead against Merlin’s.

“I have to. If she agrees to my request then we can end this without a war.”

“What request? What do you intend to do?” Merlin’s heart was pounding anxiously in his chest. 

“I will request that we resolve this matter by single combat. A champion of Caerleon against a champion of Camelot.” Arthur kissed Merlin’s brow. “Everything will be fine.” He got up and headed for the tent entrance. Merlin sprang from the bed and wrapped his fingers in Arthur’s cloak.

“Don’t go alone,” he said. 

“I must.”

“It’s dangerous, Arthur. Annis doesn’t feel kindly to you right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

A smile briefly touched Arthur’s lips. “As a matter of fact, I had noticed that.” The smile disappeared. “It will be better if I go alone.”

“Arthur-“

Arthur grasped Merlin’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I will go alone, Merlin, and that’s final. You must promise me you will stay here and wait.” 

Merlin grimaced. “But-“

“Promise me, Merlin. You cannot follow me.”

“I promise.” Merlin nearly choked on the words. They went against every instinct he had to protect Arthur. “But what if something happens? What if Annis denies your request? What if she decides to take you prisoner?”

“If I do not return in an hour you may send one knight to inquire after my well being. One knight. Alright?” 

Merlin sighed. “Alright.” He leaned forward for a quick kiss. “Be careful, Arthur.”

“I will.” And then the king was gone. Merlin stood alone in the tent for a while, just staring at the entrance. Everything in him was screaming that he go after Arthur right this instant, but he held himself back. He had to trust Arthur.

-

The hour was nearly up when Arthur finally returned. Merlin hadn’t slept a wink, instead sitting on the bed and gnawing anxiously at his fingernails. The moment Arthur was through the tent entrance Merlin was on his feet. His hands fluttered uselessly in the air until Arthur grasped them in his own.

“Everything is fine, Merlin,” Arthur reassured him. “I am unharmed and Annis has agreed to my request.” Merlin sighed, slumping against his lover. He felt Arthur press a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“So there will be no war,” Merlin said. 

“No,” Arthur confirmed, arms moving to wrap around Merlin and hold him close.

“What are the terms of the challenge?”

“Terms?”

Merlin pulled back enough to look Arthur in the eye. “Terms, Arthur. You must have made some.”

“I’m not sure you’ll like them overly much,” Arthur said. Merlin rolled his eyes. “Right, terms,” Arthur began. “If Camelot wins then Annis is to withdraw her army from our lands.” 

“And if Caerleon is victorious?”

“They won’t be,” Arthur said, and the confidence in his voice was one of the things Merlin loved about him, but he wanted to know.

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“If Caerleon wins then…” Arthur took a deep breath. “Then half of Camelot will be forfeited to Queen Annis.” 

“Half,” Merlin repeated. Part of him was relieved that Arthur hadn’t agreed to something stupid, like letting Annis chop his head off in revenge. The rest of him was imagining the consequences of handing over half of Camelot’s lands to an enemy.

“Camelot will not lose,” Arthur assured him. 

“And who do you intend to select as our champion?” Merlin asked. 

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. “Let’s not dwell on this anymore tonight,” he finally said. “Come back to bed.”

“Arthur-”

“I have until noon tomorrow to announce our champion. It is not a decision I want to make lightly.”

Merlin nodded and began to help Arthur out his chain mail.

-

“But sire, we can win this battle, I know we can,” Leon argued. The rest of the men looked just as confused by Arthur’s announcement.

“I don’t doubt it, but at what cost? How many men will be slaughtered?”

“And what if we were to lose this trial?” Elyan asked. “We can’t give up our land.” They would lose too much. Camelot would likely be crippled.

“That’s the deal I’ve struck,” Arthur said. “I believe it to be fair. I’ll stand by it.” 

“Well then,” Agravaine said, “all that remains, my lord, is for you to choose your champion.” Arthur met Merlin’s eyes. His lover pressed his lips into a thin, displeased line, but said nothing. They’d argued about this right up until Arthur had called the meeting. Merlin, ever perceptive and knowing Arthur almost too well, had guessed his plan without much effort. 

“It will be a privilege, sire,” Percival said, stepping forward. Elyan and Leon quickly followed. Gwaine also stepped up. 

“There can only be one choice,” Arthur said before any of the other knights could speak. “One choice which is just and honorable.” He looked each of his men in the eye. “This fight’s mine.” He could see that each of them wanted to argue while at the same time knowing there would be no talking him out of it. Merlin looked away, expression resigned. He understood, even if he didn’t like it. Arthur needed to do this. It was he who brought this war upon Camelot and it was he who should end it. None of his men should bear the responsibility for his mistake.

-

Merlin couldn’t say what woke him. Arthur was still there, a comforting heat pressed all along Merlin’s back, breath still slow and even with sleep. He wriggled far enough out of the king’s grip to lift his head and look around the tent. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He could’ve sworn there was something there, but maybe it had just been his imagination. A quick scan of the tent with his magic revealed nothing. He settled in to go back to sleep, only to find himself startled out of a doze some time later. A figure was walking towards the tent flap, on their way out. Merlin squinted into the dark and thought he saw-

“Lord Agravaine?” Merlin called. The figure froze. “What are you doing in here?”

“Nothing.” And the voice did indeed mark the intruder as Agravaine. “No need for concern. Go back to sleep.” The way Merlin had tensed upon hearing Agravaine’s voice must have woken Arthur. The king groaned and leaned up to look over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Uncle? Has something happened?” He was as tense as Merlin now, ready to leap from bed at a moment’s notice.

“No, no,” Agravaine quickly assured. “Nothing’s wrong, my lord. I thought I saw something in here, but it was just a trick of the imagination. I did not mean to disturb you.”

“Ah.” Arthur relaxed, pulling Merlin back against him. “No harm done then. Good night, Uncle.”

“Good night, Arthur.”

Merlin tracked Agravaine until he was out of the tent. “Arthur-”

“Go to sleep, Merlin,” Arthur interrupted. He pressed a sleepy kiss to the back of Merlin’s neck and Merlin decided Agravaine’s suspicious behavior was not worth pursuing that night.

-

The morning was quiet. Rather than get up right away, Arthur made slow, careful love to Merlin while he was still sleep warm and pliant. There was a part of him that didn’t want to leave the bed. While he knew he was a skilled warrior, he had no idea what sort of man Annis’s champion was.

Merlin was abnormally quiet, staying close by Arthur’s side. It was for that reason that Arthur called one of his guards to fetch some breakfast for them both, unwilling to make Merlin leave him. The silence continued right up until Merlin was dressing him in his armor.

“Not too tight Merlin,” Arthur said with a wince, “you don’t want to kill me before I’ve even started.”

He heard a small, nervous laugh. “Sorry,” Merlin said. As he made the final adjustments, Arthur pulled off his glove, considering the ring on his hand before sliding it off and turning to Merlin. 

“If this day should prove to be my last,” he said, pressing the ring into Merlin’s hand. “Then I want you to have this.” Merlin stared at him. 

“Why?” he asked.

“As a token of my love for you,” Arthur said softly. Merlin nodded absently. He considered something.

“Arthur, do you really think this is worth the risk? You’re king now, Camelot needs you. Alive.” There was so much worry in his eyes. Arthur gently cupped his face in his hands. 

“I don’t know what will happen. But for the first time since I’ve become king, I know in my heart I’ve made the right decision.” He smiled. Merlin couldn’t quite manage to return it, but there was understanding alongside the worry now. 

“I love you, Arthur Pendragon,” he whispered. “No matter what. Good luck.” Rather than reply, Arthur kissed him, trying to pour all of his love into that gesture. Merlin’s hands came up to rest on his shoulders, one of them clenched into a fist around the ring. A polite cough broke them apart. 

“It is time, my lord,” Agravaine said. His eyes were respectfully diverted away from the private moment he had just interrupted. 

“Very well.” Arthur glanced around the tent, trying not to think about the fact that he may never set foot inside it again, much less his citadel. 

“Is all in readiness?”

Arthur looked at his lover. “Merlin?”

Merlin stepped back, standing tall, and Arthur hadn’t thought he could love him anymore than he already did, but it seemed he was wrong. “Ready,” Merlin said. 

“Uncle, a moment longer,” Arthur said. 

“But-”

“A moment longer,” Arthur repeated, firm. Agravaine inclined his head and left. 

Merlin frowned. “Arthur?”

The king went and dug up a length of leather cord. He took the ring from Merlin, sliding it onto the cord and tying it before placing it around Merlin’s neck. “There. Now I can be sure you won’t lose it.” His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. “Here.” Arthur picked up his cloak where it was draped over a chair. Carefully, he settled it around Merlin’s shoulders. 

“Arthur-“

“Please,” the king said. He smiled. “I want you to wear it.” Merlin swallowed back any other protests. 

“In that case,” Merlin said, voice a little thick. He reached up and untied his neckerchief. “I know it’s an old, ratty thing, hardly fit for a king, but…” He tied it carefully around Arthur’s bicep, giving the knot an extra tug to ensure it wouldn’t come undone in the middle of battle. “It’s all I have to offer.” Arthur drew him in for one last kiss. 

“It’s more than I could ever ask for,” the king said when they’d parted. “I shall wear your favor with pride.” Finally he went and drew his sword, so carefully sharpened and polished by Merlin. “Right then.” Time to face his fate.

-

Something a lot like disgust crossed Agravaine’s features when Merlin took his place on the cliff overlooking the would be battlefield, wrapped in Arthur’s red cloak with the ring glinting against his chest, but Merlin paid the man no mind. He watched as Arthur picked his way out onto the field where Annis’s champion waited. The man was huge, larger even than Percival, who already dwarfed most of Camelot’s knights. Anxiety twisted his stomach into knots. From the corner of his eye he caught a flash of dark material that seemed out of place among the knights of Gwynedd. A hooded figure stood at Annis’s side. The figure struck a familiar chord with Merlin, but he couldn’t put his finger on why, nor did he have much thought to spare for it. All his attention was focused on the field below where Arthur now stood across from the Gwyneddian knight.

The tension in the air was palpable. Time felt distorted. Without thought, Merlin closed his hand around the ring hanging from his neck. For a moment he closed his eyes and said a prayer to the gods for his lover’s safety. He missed the first attack, but the clash of swords rang out through the midday air and Merlin’s eyes flew open.

Arthur had speed and agility on his side, but Annis’s champion had enough sheer size and strength that they were of fairly even match. Regardless, as the fight wore on Arthur began to gain the upper hand. And then it all went wrong. Arthur’s sword arm suddenly dropped and Merlin frowned, unable to fathom what had happened. Annis’s champion hadn’t injured him and Merlin hadn’t noticed Arthur moving in a way that would incapacitate his arm. Besides, the more Merlin looked, the more it became clear that Arthur’s arm wasn’t the problem. It was his sword. Merlin glanced once more at the hooded figure standing by Annis. He had to resist the urge to send out a probing tendril of magic to confirm. If it was indeed Morgana there was a chance that she would trace the magic back to him and he absolutely could not risk that.

He returned his eyes to the fight just in time to see Arthur abandon his sword and move out of the way of Annis’s champion. He wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid an injury. When the sword swung towards Arthur, defenseless and unable to move in time, Merlin reacted almost without thought, halting the sword’s momentum and giving Arthur time to act.

“What the hell’s going on?” Gwaine muttered. There were murmurs from the rest of the knights as well, but it was Agravaine who captured Merlin’s attention. The concern on his face was convincing, but it looked wooden to Merlin. Maybe because he already had reason to be suspicious of Agravaine’s loyalty. It didn’t matter. Even if he could confront Agravaine right now it would all be for nothing if Arthur lost the duel. Without a sword he was at a severe disadvantage. Merlin felt out the sword with his magic. The spell was one he’d never seen before, though that was hardly surprising. There would likely never be enough time for him to learn all there was to know of the Old Religion. The good news was that Merlin was sure he could undo the curse. The bad news was that it would take hours. Arthur didn’t have hours. 

Annis’s champion raised his sword above his head, intending to bring it down on Arthur where he lay panting on the ground. Merlin prayed the knights were too engrossed with their king’s impending death to pay him any mind, closed his eyes to hide the telltale flash of his eyes, and whispered a spell. There was a roar of pain. Merlin’s eyes snapped open again and he saw Annis’s champion had dropped his sword. Arthur wasted no time. He sprang up from the ground and grabbed the other knight’s sword, cutting him at the knees and shoving him down with a booted foot. Then he held the sword poised over the knight’s chest. It was a clear victory. One thrust of the sword and Camelot’s army would return home victorious. But Arthur hesitated. He turned his gaze up to the cliff, seeking Merlin out. Merlin almost didn’t dare to breathe as he held Arthur’s stare. A moment later Arthur turned back to Annis’s champion. He threw the sword to the ground. There was a moment of stunned silence before the cliff erupted in cheers. Merlin put a hand over his heart, breathing a sigh of relief. Elyan grabbed him and hugged him and his laughter was infectious.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” Elyan said. Merlin nodded. He looked over towards Agravaine. The man was clapping and smiling, same as the rest, but as with the concern from earlier it looked fake. However, the rest of the knights were too caught up in their victorious relief to notice anything. Someday, Merlin would have the proof he needed to show everyone what a traitorous snake Agravaine was. For now he pushed the thought from his mind and began moving along the cliff to the pathway leading down to where Arthur stood.

-

Arthur remained on the battlefield even as the cheers of his men above died down, watching as his opponent was carried back to Annis’s encampment. His sword still lay where he had dropped it when it suddenly gained too much weight for his strength to bear. Magic was the obvious conclusion and Arthur had seen a dark hooded figure depart from the battlefield, but he had already decided against levying any sort of accusation against the queen. The point here was to create peace between their kingdoms. Besides, he could hardly blame Annis for turning to magic in her grief when he’d done the same thing.

Rapid footsteps drew his attention and Arthur turned to see Merlin running towards him, the red cloak streaming behind him. He stopped short of throwing his arms around Arthur. A frown began to overtake the delighted smile that had been there moments before.

“Your wound,” Merlin began, gently pulling Arthur’s hand away from where the enemy knight’s sword had cut him. “How is it?”

“It’s hardly more than a scratch,” Arthur said. “You can treat it when we return to our own camp.” Merlin nodded, then wrapped his arms around Arthur, careful to avoid the wound. Arthur clung to him, aware that he had stared death in the face only a short time ago. When Merlin pulled back he reached for the ring around his neck, but Arthur stilled his hands. “Hold on to it for now,” he requested.

“But-”

“Just for now.”

Merlin nodded. A moment later he smiled, warm and proud. Arthur was barely even aware of echoing that smile. Then he saw Merlin’s gaze move to something over his shoulder and he turned to see Queen Annis approaching them.

“You are victorious, Arthur Pendragon,” Annis said. “And you may rest assured that I shall comply absolutely with the terms of our agreement. My army will be gone by nightfall.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Arthur said. She held out her arm and Arthur grasped it, but when they released their grip she didn’t immediately return to her army.

“Tell me something,” Annis said. “You spared my champion. Why?” Arthur felt a hand slip into his, twining their fingers together and he glanced at Merlin, a steady, reassuring presence at his side. He turned back to Annis. 

“Because it is not victory I seek. It is peace. I hope that today will mark a new beginning for our kingdoms.” Merlin squeezed his hand and Arthur could feel his pride. Annis said nothing at first. Arthur noted her eyes were focused on Merlin, evaluating where he stood at Arthur’s side. Their hands were still clasped and Arthur’s cloak was still draped around Merlin’s shoulders, a stark contrast with the threadbare clothes and scuffed boots beneath it. Perhaps most telling of all was the ring around his neck, clearly something you wouldn’t find in the possession of a peasant. Arthur couldn’t help but tense. He didn’t realize he’d shifted to shield Merlin until a smile pulled at Annis’s lips. 

“There’s something about you, Arthur Pendragon,” she finally said. “Something which gives me hope for us all.” She watched him a moment longer, looking one last time at Merlin before turning to rejoin her men. Arthur released a shaky breath.

“Come.” Merlin tugged at his hand. “You have a wound that needs treating.”

“I told you it’s hardly more than a scratch,” Arthur said as he turned to follow. “I’ve had far worse.”

“Even a scratch can invite infection,” Merlin said. “I’ve known people to die from such things.”

Arthur let it go, knowing a lost battle when he saw one. “What do you think she meant by that?” he asked. “When she said there’s something about me that gives her hope for us all.”

“I think it may mean she’s forgiven you.” Merlin shook his hand loose. Arthur frowned until he realized Merlin only meant to link their arms instead, bringing him even closer to his king’s side. “And that perhaps she sees in you the same thing I’ve seen for quite some time.”

Arthur frowned. “What’s that?”

Merlin pulled them to a stop and looked Arthur in the eye. “That you will become a great king,” he declared solemnly. “One who will bring peace and prosperity to all the lands.”

“That remains to be seen,” Arthur said, looking away from the faith and love shining in Merlin’s eyes. He started off towards the camp once more, pulling Merlin along with him.


	3. A Servant of Two Masters

-

“You’re not coming, and that’s final!” 

“But _why_ don’t you want me to come?”

Arthur sighed and told himself banging his head against the window was not an appropriate way to express frustration. He should know by now that when any other person would have simply accepted their king’s word, Merlin would argue it. “Because it’s dangerous,” Arthur said. He couldn’t remember how many times they’d gone over it. Too many. Arthur was worried he would cave soon. 

“More dangerous than any other journey I’ve accompanied you on?” Merlin questioned. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, not really liking the reminder of the number of times Merlin could have died over the years. “What if you have need of a physician?”

“We can deal with most simple injuries-“

“And what about the injuries that aren’t simple? What if someone breaks their arm? What if someone gets a serious head wound? What if someone needs to be stitched up? What will you do then?” Merlin crossed his arms. “Why don’t I get a say in this again?”

“Because I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” Arthur said. He finally turned around and it was a mistake, a huge mistake, possibly the biggest one Arthur had ever made in his life. On the surface Merlin looked angry, but underneath that Arthur could see the worry weighing him down. “Our route is going to take us through very dangerous territory,” Arthur tried. “Please, Merlin. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Merlin’s entire countenance softened and Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. Merlin’s persuasiveness wasn’t marked by grand speeches or forceful words. It was marked by something much more subtle: patience. Arthur still hadn’t quite figured out how to counter it.

“I know,” Merlin said. “I know because I worry too. I can’t stand being stuck here, not knowing if anything’s happened to you. It drives me mad. You said you’re traveling by secretive means. Doesn’t that mean there’s very little chance of something going wrong?”

Arthur sighed again.

-

Merlin was sure that once this fight was over and everyone was safe and accounted for Arthur’s first course of action would be to ban him from ever leaving the castle again. The road was chaos. From what Merlin could see of the bandits swarming around them there was nothing to mark them as belonging to a faction or even a kingdom. It _could_ be a random attack. Considering Merlin knew of at least one traitor living in Camelot he was disinclined to believe in coincidence just now. But there was no time to dwell on it. The knights, he noticed, had done their best to form a protective circle around him (and probably Arthur, but Arthur had never thought of himself as someone who needed to be protected), however the bandits were too numerous. Merlin paid them little mind. His eyes sought out Arthur, pulled from his horse, but fighting his attackers off well enough. Another bandit approached his back, sword held high. Merlin leaped off his horse.

“Arthur!” he called, unsurprised when he went unheard. His magic surged up at his will and Merlin sent it against the bandit, shoving him off the horse. Arthur was still doing fine, so Merlin turned to check on the rest of the knights. He didn’t register the horse galloping towards him, nor the hammer wielding bandit riding it until it was too late. The hammer slammed into his chest. It was shock Merlin felt first, not pain. Pain came when he swayed and crashed to his knees and finally realized that he’d been injured, quite badly, too. There probably wouldn’t be a lot of blood, he mused, not on the surface. It would all be in the nasty bruise that would appear there. He remembered all Gaius’s lectures on the dissipation of force. Gaius had used flogging as an example, speaking to why such sentences were rarely carried out on a person’s chest, but Merlin imagined the same principle applied to a hammer. He hit the ground. Someone yelled his name. Arthur, probably. 

Merlin was definitely going to be banned from ever leaving the castle again after this.

-

Merlin was alive and Arthur wished that was his only concern. He would never forget turning around and watching his lover crash to the ground, a hand clutching his chest. A bandit had nearly gutted him because of it. In the end, Arthur had managed to fight his way to Merlin and get him away from the battle, but he’d lost his knights in the process. He didn’t even know if they were alive. And just to make the whole thing even worse, they were being tracked.

Night fell quickly around them, which was a blessing. If they kept quiet and stayed out of sight the bandits would have a hard time tracking them. The only problem- and it was a big, glaring one at that- was that they couldn’t travel either. Especially with Merlin’s injury. There was too much of a chance of further injury from tripping over tree roots, stumbling into the wrong plants, not seeing a ditch until they were falling into it. One problem at a time, Arthur decided. He needed to see just how bad Merlin’s wound was.

Arthur set Merlin down gently, propping him against a tree. Carefully, he pulled Merlin’s tunic away from his chest and examined the wound. A bruise had already spread from the epicenter of where the hammer had hit, dark and ugly. Arthur had seen men’s chests crushed from blows like this.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Arthur looked up at Merlin. “Well, it’s not good,” he admitted. “I’ve definitely seen worse, though.” Merlin huffed a laugh and winced when it caused a flare of pain.

“You do remember I apprentice to a renowned physician, right?” he mumbled. 

“Well, we’ll have you back to Camelot soon enough and Gaius will have you ready to polish my armor again in no time,” Arthur said, smiling. It was a weak smile, but Merlin returned it and that was all that mattered.

“Personally I think being hit in the chest with a hammer earns me some time off,” Merlin said.

“Well-”

“I don’t suppose you’d mind if I spent it in your bed?”

“Oh, well if that’s the case, then yes, I think this does warrant some time off.” Arthur glanced around the forest, straining his ears for any sound. It was silent. “We’ll stay the night here, get some rest, set off at first light. I’ll take first watch.”

Merlin didn’t argue, just settled more comfortably against the log and let his eyes slip shut. Almost immediately he was asleep. Arthur took a deep, shaky breath and shifted into a better position to keep watch, trying not to think too hard about how scared he was that Merlin wouldn’t make it back to Camelot.

-

Arthur shook himself awake just before dawn and was immediately angry with himself for dozing off. A quick glance at Merlin showed him to still be asleep, though it looked restless. It was hard to stay awake, but Arthur forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching the sky lighten through the foliage. He could make out a few clouds. Morgana used to make fun of him for going cloud watching. Morgana. Arthur wondered if she were somehow involved in this. It wouldn’t surprise him. His sister seemed to find a way to worm herself into every plot against him.

A twig snapped, too close for comfort, Arthur’s head snapped in the direction of the sound, then towards Merlin. Merlin was awake now, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. Arthur got to his feet.

“I’d love to say we can stay here and rest,” Arthur said, “but another ten minutes and we’ll be mercenary mincemeat.” He leaned down and hoisted Merlin onto his shoulders.

“Leave me,” Merlin said.

“Now’s not the time for jokes,” Arthur replied absently, looking around for movement. There wasn’t any yet, but that could change in an instant.

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin begged. “I’m only slowing you down. Just leave me.”

“I will _not_ leave you behind,” Arthur said firmly. “End of discussion.” Merlin gave up the argument unusually fast, but that was likely because he was in a lot of pain. Arthur made sure that his hold on his lover was secure before setting off in the direction of the city of Camelot.

Things went well for a while, fate remaining in their favor. Until they arrived at a stone staircase leading up a narrow corridor of rock. Arthur had barely taken a step towards it when a bandit appeared at the top, immediately spotting him. Quickly, Arthur lowered Merlin to the ground and drew his sword. It was probably just a small group of them. Arthur would dispatch them, go back for Merlin, and continue their journey home.

Fate, however, had apparently changed its mind about being kind to them. As Arthur engaged the first bandit halfway up the stairs, he heard the sound of another one approaching behind. He knocked the first bandit aside and turned just in time to block what would otherwise have been a debilitating blow. It was short work to dispatch the two bandits, but when Arthur turned back to go retrieve Merlin it was to see more bandits pouring out of the woodwork, coming right for him. Determined, Arthur squared up to face them. He had an advantage in this little area: the stone walls on either side of him would work to force the bandits to come at him in smaller numbers, allowing him to take them out one or two at a time instead of dealing with them all at once.

Only, Arthur never got the chance. A deep rumble rolled through the air. Arthur’s first thought was thunder, but there was no storm in the sky. When he looked up though he saw giant boulders tumbling down the sides of the narrow passageway. No. No, no, no!

" _Merlin_!” Arthur reached out a hand fruitlessly towards where his lover lay, past the group of bandits, but there was nothing he could do. Within moments the passage was blocked by the stone fall, separating him from Merlin. Arthur spent a few fruitless seconds shoving at the rock, but to no avail. Around. He had to go around. The bandits wouldn’t hurt Merlin. They wouldn’t take him. A servant was of no value to them or whoever had hired them. He would find away around the rockfall and see Merlin lying right where he’d left him, maybe complaining about how long Arthur had taken to get to him.

Merlin would be fine.

-

Anger surged through Morgana when she saw Agravaine approaching at the head of the bandits. Because the form being dragged towards her by two of the hired mercenaries was definitely not her brother.

“You lost how many men?” Morgana sneered. The body was dropped at her feet. “And you bring me how many men? Or should I say, how many servants?” She kicked the still body over and confirmed that it was indeed Merlin. No surprise there. He’d always stuck close to Arthur’s side, ever since first coming to Camelot.

“Arthur was within our grasp,” Agravaine said.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“The rockfall was hardly our fault.”

Morgana hated that he was right, not that she would ever admit it out loud. She was tired of coming so close to having Arthur at her mercy only to be thwarted at the last moment.

“I must show my presence in Camelot,” Agravaine went on. “The old physician already suspects me.”

“Oh, Gaius is shrewd, you should take care,” Morgana taunted. “After all, if your true nature is revealed I really don’t know what use I’ll have for you.”

“Morgana-” Agravaine tried to protest, but she shut him down with a look. She didn’t want whining, sniveling excuses. She wanted results. Looking down at Merlin, Morgana supposed this venture hadn’t been an entire waste.

“I’ll dispatch this servant,” Agravaine declared.

“You will do no such thing,” Morgana said quickly. She looked down at Merlin’s prone form, a plan taking shape in her mind. “Arthur has always been strangely fond of the boy and you yourself said that fondness has only grown stronger, perhaps even into love. He could prove useful.” A smirk curled her lips. “Very useful indeed.”

-

Merlin thought he was drowning when he first woke. Coughing and spluttering, he forced his eyes open and saw that he was most certainly not drowning. He was in a room, dimly lit, earthy smell permeating the air. His hands were above his head and when he tugged on them he found them bound. Bandits. There had been bandits.

“Good morning.”

Merlin’s blood ran cold. He recognized that voice. Dread gathered in the pit of his stomach as he turned his head and saw Morgana.

“Is it?” he couldn’t resist asking. The last thing he remembered was causing a rockslide to protect Arthur, who would have stupidly stayed behind and gotten himself captured trying to fight off the bandits. He could only draw one conclusion from this: Morgana had sent the bandits.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Morgana said, all false sympathy. “We have a lot of catching up to do. After all, I haven’t seen you since you condemned my sister to a slow and painful death, thwarted my plans to take over Camelot, and forced me to live in a hovel.”

“Couldn’t do me a favor, could you? Let Arthur know?He still thinks of me as an underachiever, but I’m quite proud of those accomplishments. I can die happy.” Well, relatively so. He’d prefer not to die at all, but better him than Arthur.

“Oh, you’re not going to die,” Morgana corrected. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not going to make it that easy.”

-

The knights almost had to physically drag Arthur back to Camelot. Gwaine as well, once he’d asked that fated question about Merlin’s whereabouts and they’d learned he’d been captured. Leon understood, he really did. He too wanted nothing more than to track Merlin down and bring him home safe. But it was the four of them against scores of bandits. They wouldn’t stand a chance. And so it was that Leon, with Percival’s help, convinced Arthur that the prudent course of action was to return to Camelot. It didn’t at all surprise him when Arthur’s first order was to send out patrols. What was surprising was when Agravaine appeared in the courtyard and insisted on accompanying them.

“I’m sure you could use all the help you can get,” Agravaine said as he mounted up. It was true. The forest stretched on for miles and Leon knew from past experience that there were plenty of places for bandits to hide. Still, something just felt off. Leon wouldn’t say that Agravaine disliked Merlin, but he certainly disliked Arthur’s insistence on courting him. How convenient it would be if Merlin were to be kidnapped by bandits and never return, leaving Arthur free to marry someone of more appropriate status. But that was absurd. Agravaine may not like his nephew’s choice of courtship, but he would never stoop so low as to deliberately ruin it. Especially not like this.

-

Arthur woke up alone in his own bed. For a moment he was irritated, thinking about how rude it was of Merlin to scamper off like that before Arthur was even awake. Then the events of the previous day came flooding back to him and the irritation vanished. Right. Merlin wasn’t there. And despite all the patrols he’d sent out yesterday to scour the forest for his lover, no sign of him had been found, save for a scrap of cloth that looked like it came from Merlin’s jacket. Arthur refused to think about what that could mean.

It was when another servant showed up to deliver breakfast and help him ready for the day that Arthur knew he had to do something. The patrols hadn’t found any sign of Merlin, but that was yesterday. Merlin was clever and resourceful, something Arthur should make a point to tell him more often. It was entirely possible that in the time since the last patrol had searched the forest Merlin had managed to escape.

“Are you sure about this?” Gwen said, following him down the steps a short time later. “The patrols found no sign of him.”

“I have to,” Arthur said. At the bottom of the stairs he turned to face her. “You can’t just expect me to sit here and take their word for it that Merlin’s gone. I can’t accept that.”

Gwen’s expression softened. “I know. But Arthur at least take someone with you. Don’t go alone.”

“He won’t be alone.”

Arthur turned to find Gwaine, all suited up and ready to go, already sitting astride his horse.

“See?” Arthur said, turning back to Gwen. “Now you’ve condemned me to a day of mindless chatter.”

“Good,” she said, a smile flashing across her face. Immediately she turned serious again. “Bring him home, Arthur.” He nodded, mounted up, and cantered out of the courtyard, Gwaine close on his heels.

-

The search wasn’t going well. Gwaine’s mindless chatter, Arthur didn’t really mind, since it helped keep him from thinking about what the mercenaries might be doing to Merlin. But they’d been out there for hours now and there was no sign of his lover.

“You know what I really like about Merlin?” Gwaine asked.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Arthur muttered.

“He never seeks any praise. All these things he does, just for the sake of doing them-” Gwaine cut himself off at Arthur’s signal to stop. Up ahead there was a rustle in the underbrush. Quickly, Arthur dismounted and drew his sword, taking a few steps away from his horse.

“Who’s there?” he called. No answer. Arthur held his sword up. “Declare yourself!” More rustling and then something big and covered in mud appeared. Merlin stumbled onto the path, looking around with a confused frown until his eyes landed on Arthur. Then a beautiful smile broke out across his face and he laughed. Arthur was hardly even aware of dropping his sword. He ran straight for Merlin, not caring how undignified he was being or that Gwaine was there to see it. He didn’t even care that Merlin was absolutely filthy and smelled horrible. All he cared about was taking Merlin in his arms and never letting go again and that was exactly what he did.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Arthur said and if there was a tremble to his words no one but the two of them would ever know.

“Nope, still here,” Merlin said. “And never leaving you again.”

-

First thing when they got back Arthur had a nice hot bath drawn. He peeled Merlin’s filthy clothes from his body, not caring that a king was supposed to do no such thing for a servant. He wanted desperately to ask about the mercenaries, ask why they’d treated Merlin’s wound, why they’d bothered taking him at all when for all intents and purposes he was just a servant, if they’d said anything in front of him about who had hired them and why. But now was not the time to start an interrogation. Merlin needed rest. So instead of asking any of the questions burning desperately in his mind, Arthur helped merlin into the tub. He turned away, just for a moment, to grab the soap and a cloth and when he turned back he thought he saw something odd on the back of Merlin’s neck, but then Merlin was sinking lower into the water until just his hair was visible over the edge of the tub, sighing in content. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. Maybe it had been another injury. Arthur decided if Merlin didn’t bring it up then neither would he.

“You really didn’t have to do this, sire,” Merlin said as he finally got around to scrubbing himself clean. Arthur frowned. This wasn’t the first time the first time he’d insisted on Merlin using his bath since the start of their courtship. And while Merlin did occasionally address him properly, it was never in such an informal setting as this.

“After this you should eat and rest,” Arthur said. “I’ll have the cook prepare something for you. What would you like?”

“Oh really, that’s not necessary,” Merlin said.

“You have to eat something,” Arthur insisted.

“I’m not very hungry right now.”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded. “Quite sure.”

“Alright. Well, you should at least make sure to see Gaius. He should take a look at your injury to make sure it’s healing properly and he’s been worried sick about you. And then you’re to get some rest, understand?”

“If you insist.”

There was something off. Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was just something...off. Then again, Merlin had just been held captive by bandits. Maybe this was just his way of dealing with it. He _did_ seem to have a tendency to downplay the seriousness of things. Some food and rest and Merlin would feel much better, Arthur was sure of it.

-

Alright, so maybe food and rest wasn’t going to be enough. Although Merlin wasn’t doing too well on the resting bit. Arthur understood. Sometimes it was easier to just distract yourself rather than think about what you’d been through. It made him itch to know what had happened, but it didn’t seem like an appropriate time to bring it up yet. Too soon. But there was someone else who could possibly shed some light on things. He would be a bit late getting to the knighting ceremony, but this was more important.

Arthur went to the physician’s chambers and entered. Gaius looked up from his workbench with a questioning frown.

“Gaius, can I speak with you?” Arthur asked. When the old man looked like he was about to refuse Arthur quickly added, “It’s about Merlin.” He was beckoned in.

“What about him?” Gaius asked.

Arthur hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to put his concerns into words. “Have you noticed anything odd about Merlin’s behavior?”

Gaius frowned. “He has been a bit off, but that’s only to be expected after what he’s been through recently, sire.” Arthur shook his head.

“I think this is different. Merlin doesn’t… he doesn’t lash out, Gaius. If something’s upsetting him he usually tries to keep it all bottled up inside, wouldn’t you agree?”

Gaius’s frown became concerned. “Yes, it is unusual for him-” He was cut off by the door banging open.

“Gaius, I think-” Gwen froze halfway into the room, mouth still open in mid sentence, eyes fixed on Arthur. In her hand was the plate of food Merlin had brought to Arthur’s chambers earlier, only some of it had been eaten.

“What is it Guinevere?” Gaius asked. Gwen darted another nervous glance at Arthur.

“Well, um, I think… I think the food on this plate was poisoned,” Gwen said.

“What makes you think that?” Arthur demanded. Again, Gwen hesitated. “Gwen, tell me. What makes you think it was poisoned?”

“I was in the lower town,” Gwen started, “and I saw a crowd gathered around one of the neighbor’s pig pens. The pigs were all dead and this-” She held up the plate. “-was in there.” Gaius took the plate and carefully examined it for several long minutes. 

“Aconite,” he declared. At their confused looks he explained, “Wolfsbane to you. The deadliest poison known to man.”

“What was it doing on my food?” Arthur asked, alarmed. Gaius started to shake his head before he froze.

“Merlin took some from here this morning,” he admitted. There was dead silence in the room as they all considered what that meant.

“Merlin wouldn’t try to poison me,” Arthur said. Gwen and Gaius looked at him. “He wouldn’t. You both know that.”

“But then why?” Gwen asked. “I mean you’re right, but…” There was no denying that Merlin had been the one to try and deliver the plate of poisoned food to Arthur that day and, according to Gaius, he had also been the one to get ahold of the poison.

“Someone must’ve put him up to it,” Arthur said with conviction. “Maybe he didn’t really escape from the bandits. Maybe they let him go.” And now they were using him to try and assassinate Arthur. But why hadn’t Merlin said anything?

“Or he may be under the influence of an enchantment,” Gaius said.

A chill raced down Arthur’s spine. “Morgana? But how? She wasn’t there.”

“Someone sent the bandits,” Gaius reminded him. “An enchantment would explain Merlin’s odd behavior and why he’s taken a sudden interest in assassination.”

“How do we confirm? And how do we break it?”

“Well, the first step is finding him and making sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

-

Merlin, as it turned out, wasn’t hard to track down. After all, Arthur had told Merlin he could help prepare the king for that knighting ceremony (which was likely now going to be postponed- it could wait until tomorrow). Merlin was over by the wardrobe, which he closed suspiciously fast when they entered the room.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“My job,” Merlin answered easily. His eyes moved briefly to Gwen and Gaius before focusing back on Arthur and there was just something wrong about his gaze. “Why are they here? Don’t tell me you don’t think I’m capable of doing something as simple as helping you dress.”

Arthur ignored that. “Merlin, come here,” he said.

“Why?” Merlin was eyeing him suspiciously now.

“Merlin, just please come here. It will only take a moment.”

Cautiously, Merlin approached. As soon as he was in reach, Arthur grabbed his arm and whirled him around. He kept thinking about the strange thing he’d glimpsed on the back of Merlin’s neck during his bath just after they’d returned.

“What are you doing?” Merlin cried. “Stop!” Arthur yanked Merlin’s neckerchief aside and reeled back in shock. There was something in Merlin’s neck, something moving.

“What the hell is that?” Arthur demanded. Before Gaius had a chance to answer, Merlin got violent. He jammed his elbow back into Arthur’s stomach. However, Merlin only managed to get a few steps away before Gwen, in a fit of brilliant desperation, seized a nearby pitcher and slammed it into Merlin’s head, knocking him out cold.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I just did that!” Gwen exclaimed, dropping the pitcher.

“I think he’ll understand,” Arthur assured her. He looked at Gaius. “Now what?”

“I’ve got something that should keep him out,” Gaius said and withdrew a vial from his pocket. Arthur wondered if he made it a point to always keep things like that on hand or if he’d specifically brought it along this time. He supposed it didn’t matter and, after helping Gaius pour the concoction down Merlin’s throat, gently lifted his lover into his arms and carried him down to Gaius’s chamber.

“Ah, I see the problem,” Gaius said.

“That thing in his neck, right?” Arthur said. Gwen leaned in to look at it and made a face. “You can remove it, can't you?”

“Certainly,” Gaius said. He gathered his tools.

“What even is it?” Gwen asked.

“My guess would be a fomorroh, an eight-headed snake,” Gaius answered. “The high priestesses of the old religion used them to enslave the minds of their enemies. Once a thought was planted the victim would become consumed by it.”

Arthur looked at Merlin’s neck again. “And the thought is planted by-”

“Implanting one of the fomorroh's heads into the victim, yes,” Gaius finished. Gwen and Arthur leaned in as Gaius cut into the back of Merlin’s neck, equally fascinated and disgusted. Carefully, Gaius extracted a severed snake head, which he immediately took and threw into the fire before returning to bandage the incision.

“And that’s it?” Gwen asked. “Merlin’s back to being Merlin again?”

“That’s it,” Gaius said. “The sleeping draft won’t wear off for some time though so we’ll simply have to wait until morning to see. But with the snake head removed, yes, the enchantment won’t have a hold over Merlin anymore.”

Arthur hesitated. “Gaius, it would probably be best if...if Merlin-”

“Remained here for tonight?” Gaius guessed. “I agree. I see no reason why this shouldn’t have worked, but it’s best not to take chances. Hopefully in the morning we’ll see for ourselves that Merlin is back to his old self.”

-

The next morning, Arthur awaited Merlin’s arrival with nervous anticipation. Gaius had said that removing the snake head would release Merlin from the enchantment and Gaius generally knew what he was talking about. Still, when Merlin finally arrived, Arthur was cautious.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as Merlin started going about setting up the bath. He couldn’t help but note the bag Merlin had brought. That was unusual.

“Gaius asked me the same question,” Merlin said, frowning at Arthur. “I’ve never felt better. Why?”

“It’s just…” No, this didn’t feel right. This was that same, oddly respectful yet bluntly rude Merlin that had tried to poison him yesterday. A sinking feeling settled in Arthur’s stomach. “Merlin, let me see the back of your neck.”

Merlin raised a hand to cover said area and took a step back. “What? Why? No!”

“Merlin, just let me have a quick look.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Merlin-” Arthur darted forward and snatched Merlin’s arm.

“Let go!”

“Just show me the back of your neck!”

“No! Get off!”

Someday they would laugh about this, Arthur was sure, but today was most definitely not that day. Merlin could be a vicious scrapper. He kicked and punched and even bit Arthur once. It must’ve looked quite comical. And then suddenly things were much more serious. Merlin snatched up a knife Arthur had stupidly left on the table (normally Merlin would’ve tsked and put it away himself). He brandished it in front of him.

“I’m going to kill you now,” Merlin said in the most terrifyingly calm tone Arthur had ever heard. There was a strange smile on his face, a parody of joy. “Just hold still and let me stab you a few times. I promise I’ll try and make it quick, alright?”

Arthur started to back away towards the servant door. “Merlin, put the knife down,” he said. “You don’t want to do this.”

“No I really do,” Merlin said.

“No, you don’t,” Arthur insisted. “You’re being controlled. You would never hurt me. You love me, you’ve said so yourself.”

“Feelings change, Arthur,” Merlin said. “One day you love someone, the next day you want to kill them.”

It was no use. The fomorroh was too powerful. There was no way to reach the real Merlin, the Merlin that would never hurt him, who would stupidly risk his life time and again for those he loved. Arthur’s Merlin. For a split second Arthur considered calling for the guards, but he couldn’t do that. Merlin might be accused of treason and what if they couldn’t prove he was under an enchantment?

Just as Arthur was really starting to feel desperate, the doors to his room opened, admitting Gaius and Gwen. Gwen gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Merlin whipped around. Arthur didn’t waste the opportunity. Diving forward, he seized the hand holding the knife and twisted it, forcing Merlin to release his grip.

“No!” Merlin cried. “I was so close! Why did you have to ruin it!” He managed to squirm his way free from Arthur’s grasp, but Gwen, bless her, had already grabbed the same pitcher as yesterday and once again used it to knock Merlin out cold.

They took him back down to Gaius’s chambers. And there, right where the first one had been yesterday, was another severed snake head.

“But you removed it,” Gwen said. “We saw you remove it.”

“There are stories of fomorroh being able to regrow severed heads,” Gaius said as he quickly whipped up a poultice. “I never thought it would apply to a situation like this though.” He daubed the poultice along the site of the implanted snake. “There, that should silence it for a while.” Then he uncapped some smelling salts and stuck them under Merlin’s nose.

Merlin jolted awake coughing and spluttering. “What is that?” he exclaimed. “Arthur’s socks?” Arthur frowned and Gwen suppressed a giggle. Merlin sat up on his knees and stared at his mentor. “What are you trying to do to me?”

“I’m trying to stop you from killing the king,” Gaius said. Merlin gave a nervous little, _haha you’re funny wait you_ are _joking aren’t you?_ laugh before almost swaying off the table. Arthur reached for him without thought, steadying him. _This_ was his Merlin.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.

“Starving,” Merlin said. “When was the last time I ate?” Probably days ago, Arthur realized as he helped Merlin off the table. Before they’d left Camelot. If the snake thing Gaius had talked about was as all consuming as it sounded, then Merlin had been too busy trying to assassinate Arthur to bother with food.

Arthur and Gwen waited while Gaius warmed up some soup and set a large bowl of berries in front of Merlin, who scarfed it all down eagerly. Gaius frowned. “Merlin.”

“Hm?”

“I have something I’d like to ask you.”

Merlin shoved another handful of berries in his mouth and gestured for Gaius to go ahead and ask.

“Do you think my cooking is disgusting?”

Merlin almost choked on the berries. When he finally managed to swallow them he looked at Gaius uncertainly. “What?” His gaze darted to Arthur and Gwen, but neither of them had any idea what was going on either.

“Do you think my cooking is disgusting?” Gaius repeated. “Please, I would like you to be honest. I know cooking isn’t my strong point, but in six years you’ve never complained.”

“Complained? When did I-”

“Yesterday morning you told me the soup I gave you tasted like the bog Arthur found you in.”

Gwen made a strangled sound that was a lot like laughter and Arthur had to clear his throat to disguise his own amusement. Merlin floundered.

“I won’t be offended if that’s how you really feel,” Gaius continued. “I would simply like to know if there are any improvements I can make.”

“I don’t even know what a bog tastes like,” Merlin finally said. “I don’t- wait, when did Arthur find me in a bog?”

“You don’t remember?” Arthur asked, frowning. Merlin shook his head.

“In fact, I’m not entirely sure how I got here either.”

“What’s the last thing you do remember?”

Merlin thought. “We were… in the forest. After the bandits attacked. I was injured.” His hand absently pressed against his chest, right where that horrible bruise had been. “And then they caught up with us and you were trying to fight them off, but there were too many of them and-”

“Then there was a rockslide,” Arthur finished. Something odd flashed across Merlin’s eyes at the mention of it, but it was too fast to decipher. “It took me ages to find a way around it and by the time I did you were… gone.” Arthur still remembered the heart wrenching anguish he’d felt at knowing that Merlin had been captured. He pushed the memories away. “What do you remember after that?”

“I woke up in Morgana’s hut,” Merlin said, absently touching one of his wrists. There was still evidence of the presence of chains there.

“You’re sure it was Morgana’s?”

“She was there.” Merlin frowned, searching his memories. “She healed my wound and then… I think I fell unconscious again. Yeah. The next time I woke up she summoned this...snake thing-”

“Like this?” Gaius asked, setting a book down in front of Merlin. He’d gone rifling through his shelves while Merlin spoke. Merlin stared at the picture of the multi-headed snake for a long moment. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly it. I think she cut off one of its heads and then… I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Nothing?” Arthur pressed. Merlin shook his head. “You don’t remember Gwaine and I finding you in the woods? Bringing you back here? Trying to poison my food?”

“What?” Merlin looked stricken. Gwen put a gentle hand on Arthur’s arm as a silent, _Calm down, he’s been through a lot, remember?_ Arthur took a deep breath. He was angry, but not at Merlin. He was angry at himself for allowing Merlin to talk him into letting him come along on that disastrous mission. And he was angry at Morgana for trying to use Merlin to get to him like this. A knock on the door drew Gaius away and Gwen started to clean up the dishes from Merlin’s meal. Arthur took advantage of the moment to kneel in front of Merlin and grasp his hands.

“I would never try to hurt you,” Merlin said. “I wouldn’t- I would never-”

“I know,” Arthur said gently. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t. Gaius said that snake thing used to be used by the High Priestesses to enslave the minds of their enemies. It was Morgana who tried to kill me by using you.”

“But…” Merlin glanced over at Gaius, who had rejoined them.

“He’s right, Merlin,” Gaius said. “It’s called a fomorroh. The one who implants it in a victim gives an order that then becomes the victim’s sole purpose.”

“You mean, the head that Morgana cut off the snake is _inside_ me?” Merlin asked, alarmed. He reached up to feel the back of his neck and his eyes went wide. “How do we get rid of it? It’s not- it’s not stuck there is it? And why isn’t it doing anything right now? Shouldn’t I be, you know…” He made a vague gesture in the air that everyone chose to interpret as _shouldn’t I be attempting to murder Arthur?_

“Right now it’s being kept dormant by a powerful sedative,” Gaius said. “Eventually though it will wear off and your mind will be Morgana’s again.”

“So then remove it,” Merlin demanded immediately.

“We tried that,” Gwen spoke up. “It just grew back.”

“I’d heard of such a thing before,” Gaius said. “I didn’t think it applied to heads detached from the body though. No, the only way to permanently get rid of it is to kill the mother beast.”

“You mean that creature that lives in Morgana’s hut? How?” Nobody had an answer.

“Sire,” Gaius said after a long moment of silence.

“Yes, Gaius?”

“That was Sir Leon at the door just now. He wanted to remind you of the knighting ceremony taking place soon.”

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin displeased line. Now was not the time for knighting ceremonies. They needed to figure out how to get rid of the creature and free Merlin.

Merlin squeezed his hands. “You should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we have this figured out,” Arthur said.

“It will probably take us a while to figure out what to do,” Merlin said. “In the meantime you shouldn’t neglect your duties.”

“Merlin’s right,” Gwen said. “We will get this figured out, but you can’t neglect the kingdom.” She tugged on the sleeve of Arthur’s tunic. “Come on. I’ll help you get ready.” Arthur resisted for another moment before admitting to himself they were right. Camelot still needed her king. He kissed Merlin’s knuckles before letting them go and standing.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he promised. Then he followed Gwen out of the room.

-

Merlin waited until he couldn’t hear Arthur and Gwen’s footsteps anymore before saying, “It can only be killed with magic, can’t it.” Gaius didn’t even need to nod. Merlin sighed. “Alright. Guess I should go before Arthur gets back then.”

Gaius frowned at him. “You can’t tell me you’re planning to just run off and face Morgana alone? Merlin it’s too dangerous.”

“Well what else am I supposed to do?” Merlin demanded. “I have to get rid of this thing and I have to use magic to do it. And even if I didn’t, then it still wouldn’t matter. None of the knights would be able to defend themselves against Morgana, but I can.”

“It would expose your secret,” Gaius reminded him.

“I would rather take that risk than the one that one of my friends could die,” Merlin said firmly. “Besides, I don’t intend to be there at all really. Well, not as myself. Morgana’s hardly going to recognize me if I’m eighty years old.”

-

By the time the knighting ceremony was over and Arthur had returned to Gaius’s chambers, Merlin was gone. Arthur’s blood ran cold.

“Where is he?” Arthur demanded. “Where’s he gone? Gaius-”

“We discovered a way to destroy the fomorroh,” Gaius admitted. “Merlin decided to go ahead and be done with it.”

“ _Alone_?”

“Arthur-”

He didn’t wait for Gaius’s explanation. Arthur stormed from the room. He was tempted to go and find Merlin himself, but even in his anger he could recognize that running recklessly into Morgana’s clutches would help no one. So he went in search of Leon.

“Take Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine,” Arthur ordered. “Find Merlin and take him straight to Gaius, then bring him to me, understand?” Leon bowed and immediately left. Arthur retreated to his chambers then, forcing himself to concentrate on the latest grain reports.

At last, he heard hoofbeats cantering into the courtyard and Arthur went to the window just in time to watch Merlin dismount Corra. He paced until at last the doors to his chambers opened and Merlin entered, looking at once guilty and determined.

“Is it gone?” Arthur asked, managing to keep his voice calm. Instead of answering, Merlin approached and showed him that the back of his neck was now lacking in severed snake heads. He turned back around and they stared at each other for several long moments.

Finally, Merlin said, “Arthur-”

“What were you thinking?” Arthur roared. Merlin flinched a little in surprise.

“I was thinking that I knew where Morgana’s hut was and that I had a much better chance of sneaking in there alone,” he said.

“And what would’ve happened if she’d caught you?”

“She didn’t.”

“That’s beside the point!” Arthur grabbed Merlin by the shoulders in a bruising grip. Then the anger drained from his expression and he slumped, though his fingers didn’t loosen. He mumbled something too softly for Merlin to hear.

“What?” Merlin asked.

Arthur took a deep breath. “I can’t lose you again. I’m not-” Another breath, shuddering with emotion. “I’m not strong enough.” He looked Merlin in the eye and there was a glossy sheen to his gaze. “So please, don’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” Merlin promised softly, his whole demeanor gentling. Arthur pulled him close and held him tightly.

“Have I ever told you you have no sense of self preservation?” Arthur said after a moment.

“It’s not that,” Merlin argued. “I just know how to handle myself.”

“Two weeks ago your tripped over the blankets trying to get out of bed and nearly hit your head on the floor. You call that handling yourself?”

“I call that being half asleep because you kept me up too late.” Merlin sighed. “It’s not that I don’t have a sense of self preservation. It’s that I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Arthur scoffed lightly. “That’s my line. I’m the trained warrior.”

“Not every battle is one you fight with your sword.”

Arthur sighed. “Just… don’t. Please?”

Merlin rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “I won’t.”


	4. The Secret Sharer

-

Merlin tried to get up, but Arthur stopped him by wrapping his arms around his lover, pulling him back. “Not yet,” Arthur mumbled against the skin of Merlin’s shoulder.

“You have a lot to do today,” Merlin said.

“No I don’t.”

“You have to receive someone’s envoy, judge a competition, give a speech to… Guild of Harness Polishers, I think. The list goes on.”

“Guild of who?”

“Harness Polishers.”

“I don’t know anything about polishing.”

“Fortunately, I do. I wrote your speech last night.”

“Is that what you were doing instead of seeing to your king’s needs?”

Merlin snorted. “I don’t think sucking your cock is covered under my duties.” He squirmed out of Arthur’s grasp again. “We really do need to get up.” Arthur groaned and buried his head under one of his pillows. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re not out of bed by the time I get back then I’ll drag you out myself.” 

“I never get any time to myself,” Arthur complained.

“I know, it’s almost like having to work,” Merlin said, a hint of mocking in his tone. When Arthur peaked out at him it was to see Merlin pulling his tunic on before bending down to put his boots on. “Remember, up by the time I get back or I’m dragging you out of bed.” Arthur grumbled something incomprehensible into his pillow and listened to Merlin’s footsteps cross the room. He dozed off. He was having an odd dream about Merlin purchasing a lizard for a large amount of coin and insisting it was a dragon when the blankets were whipped off him and something dragged him from his soft, warm mattress. Arthur landed on the floor, legs tangled in his sheet and looked up just as Merlin turned away and walked over to the desk.

“I warned you,” Merlin said, bending over to start making notes on a piece of parchment. “You don’t have time to laze about in bed all day. Eat, get dressed, and then you need to get going on memorizing your speech to the Guild of Harness Polishers.”

“How are you this awake?” Arthur grumbled as he disentangled himself from the sheets.

“Are you joking?” Merlin didn’t even bother looking up. “I grew up in a farming village. I’ve worked from dawn until dusk my entire life. I may not like being up early, but it’s more habit by now than anything else.” He gestured at the platter of food set on the edge of the desk. “Eat.”

Arthur had just managed to get to his feet when there was a knock on the door. “Enter,” he called. Agravaine came in. For a moment, Arthur felt a measure of embarrassment that he was in nothing but a pair of sleeping trousers, his hair no doubt sticking up on all sides. Then he remembered that he was the king and he was standing beside his bed and therefore had no reason to feel embarrassed. It probably had to do with the fact that Merlin was there and a very large, dark hickey that Arthur remembered being quite proud of the previous night was standing out starkly on Merlin’s pale neck.

“Good morning, my lord,” Agravaine said. “May I have a word?” 

“Of course, Uncle.”

Agravaine’s eyes darted behind Arthur. “The matter I wish to discuss is a delicate one, sire. Perhaps it would be better if we talked alone.” The scratching of the quill stopped and Arthur turned to find Merlin glancing between him and Agravaine, waiting to see what would happen.

“Merlin, perhaps you should see if Gaius needs your help with anything,” Arthur said, unable to bring himself to just kick his lover out of his chambers at his uncle’s say so. Merlin raised a single eyebrow at him in an impressive likeness to his mentor, clearly communicating that Arthur was fooling no one with his suggestion. Nevertheless, he left, side-eyeing Agravaine with an unreadable expression as he passed.

“Now,” Arthur said, moving behind the changing screen to start dressing for the day, “what’s this about, Uncle?”

-

Merlin came back in a few minutes after Agravaine had left, pausing to frown at Arthur’s attire. “Did you do that yourself?” he asked, clearly skeptical.

“Of course,” Arthur said. Merlin’s eyebrows went up in a clear expression of disbelief. “Alright, fine, Agravaine helped with the gambeson.”

“Hm, thought so.” A smirk briefly flashed across Merlin’s face, but as he crossed the room to pick up the chain mail there was no quip or witty remark or even a blatant insult. In fact he was very quiet and efficient about helping Arthur finish dressing before moving straight over to start stripping the bed. Arthur watched him for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, rethought it, and went over to the speech left out on his desk. The room was quiet for a few minutes.

“So what did Agravaine want to talk about?” Merlin asked.

“The matter of the traitor,” Arthur answered. Merlin made a noncommittal sound that drew Arthur’s attention away from the speech he was supposed to be memorizing. There was a look on his face that the king had come to associate with Merlin wanting to say something that was possibly better left unsaid. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Merlin said. He ripped the last of the sheets away from Arthur’s bed and tossed them in the laundry basket.

Arthur leaned back in his chair. “Clearly you have something to say. So go on. Spit it out.”

Merlin sighed and turned to face him, crossing his arms. “Have you considered that the traitor might be Agravaine?”

“I did, actually. But he’s my uncle Merlin. He’s assured me he would never do anything to betray me like that.”

“It’s just, you don’t think it a bit odd that he showed up to offer his help and support only after your father fell ill?” Merlin persisted. “And I’ve noticed that his advice has a tendency to land Camelot in trouble more often than not.”

“So he’s a bit old fashioned,” Arthur said dismissively. “That doesn’t mean I should just ignore all of his advice.”

“If you recall, Agravaine’s advice nearly led Camelot to war with another kingdom.”

“As I said, he’s a bit old fashioned. But I’ve learned from the way I handled the situation with Gwynedd and I won’t make a similar mistake again.”

“So you don’t find it strange that every time you tell Agravaine something it seems to go wrong?”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, tone sharper than he’d intended. “Enough. I see no reason to believe Agravaine is the traitor. I don’t want to hear you suggesting it again.”

“Fine.” Merlin’s tone was testy.

-

There was a heavy feeling in the pit of Arthur’s gut as he listened to his uncle interrogate Gaius. He recalled how his father had always been willing to turn a blind eye to Gaius’s past and wondered if he shouldn’t do the same. But what if his father had been wrong? What if, instead of forgiving an old friend, his father had been letting something dark and twisted fester in Camelot? It wasn’t until Agravaine was pointing it out that Arthur realized just how adept Gaius was at dodging questions and giving answers that answered nothing.

The door to the council chambers opened. “Arthur-“ Merlin stopped dead two steps into the room, taking in the scene. Arthur closed his eyes and turned away briefly to hide his pained expression. “What’s going on here?”

“Do you need something Merlin?” Arthur deflected, but his lover was having none of it, blue eyes narrowing suspiciously as a frown slowly turned his mouth.

“It can wait,” the servant said. “What’s going on?”

“We are merely asking a few questions as a precaution,” Agravaine spoke up, his smile intended to ease worries. Merlin, who hadn’t much liked Agravaine since he showed up and especially as of late, wasn’t taken in the slightest.

“Precaution for what?” Merlin asked. Though the interruption was complicating things Arthur couldn’t help but admire the way Merlin was conducting himself. Not for the first time since he’d started courting the servant, the king found himself picturing his lover as his consort. Merlin would be good at it. Wise, intelligent, cunning, brave. 

“It is clear there is a traitor at court,” Agravaine explained, as if he were talking to a small child. “We must explore every possibility.”

Merlin’s eyes were on Arthur when he said, “So you think Gaius is a traitor.” Arthur found himself at a loss for words. Coming from Merlin’s lips the idea sounded as ridiculous as Merlin clearly thought it was. But Agravaine’s words, reminding him that Gaius was the one who’d told him where to find the old sorcerer, rang in his mind. 

“We must explore every possibility,” Arthur parroted his uncle. Merlin’s lips pressed into a thin angry line. Before he could say anything more, Arthur crossed the room in quick, long strides and forcefully guided Merlin from the room. 

“This is none of your concern Merlin,” the king said once they were alone in the corridor. 

“I beg to differ,” Merlin countered. “Gaius is my mentor and guardian. If you are questioning his loyalty to Camelot, to you, it is most certainly my concern.”

“No, it is not,” Arthur insisted firmly.

“Arthur, he’s known since you were born. He loves you. Gaius would never do anything to hurt you!”

“I have to explore every possibility.” Merlin was still frowning at him. Arthur sighed. “Go build up the fire in my chambers,” he ordered. “Light some candles, send for some wine. I won’t be much longer.”

“I’m not-” Merlin started, but quickly cut himself off. “Yes, sire.” And then he was gone. Arthur had the feeling he’d just put his foot in his mouth, but his mind was already back in the council chambers. He reentered quickly, for some reason uneasy at Gaius being alone with his uncle for too long.

-

“Was it really necessary to treat him like that?” Arthur asked. He thought he’d seen Merlin through the doors, waiting for his mentor, and wished he could say he was surprised that his lover hadn’t listened to him. It would be a cold day in hell before Merlin did as asked without question. Despite the current situation, Arthur couldn’t say the thought upset him.

“Your life is at stake, sire, we cannot afford to be faint hearted,” Agravaine said. Arthur sat as his uncle turned to face him. “And you saw with your own eyes. He was lying.”

Arthur looked down, then to the side. “He’s definitely hiding something,” he hedged. When Agravaine scoffed he continued with, “But we can’t be certain. We have no proof.”

“No,” Agravaine admitted, that odd smile on his face again. Arthur didn’t know what it was, but he’d been noticing that odd smile more and more lately. It was like Agravaine was trying to be genial and kind, but had forgotten how. “You’re right, sire. We do not.” He made to leave, pausing on his way out to say, “But I fear that if we keep investigating we might find some.” The clang of the door falling shut felt somehow ominous. Arthur slumped in his seat, wishing he could rewind time back to that morning when Merlin had been trying to get him out of bed to get started on his busy day and Arthur had been trying to persuade Merlin that they could afford to spend a bit longer in bed. It was amazing, really, how much could change over the course of one day.

-

Their dinner was unpleasant. Merlin had built up the fire, lit the candles, and went and retrieved the wine himself more for something to do than out of any actual desire to have a romantic evening with his lover. Arthur apparently sensed this and so the two of them spent the entire meal avoiding each other’s gazes and picking at their food. The only consolation Merlin felt for the earlier interrogation was that Arthur clearly was ill at ease with it. He wondered if maybe he should bring up what he’d seen when he’d returned to Morgana’s hut for the fomorroh. It was tempting. But Merlin had this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that Agravaine would find a way out of it.

“I should go make sure Gaius is alright,” Merlin finally said, fed up with the tense silence at the table.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Right, of course. I…think I shall retire for the night.”

Merlin stood, the legs of his chair scraping abrasively against the floor. He quickly threw all the dishes on the tray and whisked it away. Audrey, the cook, wasn’t happy to see that so much of her beautifully prepared dinner had gone uneaten, but Merlin didn’t have the mind to give her more than a quick sorry. He went straight back to Gaius’s chambers, where his mentor was bent over a book, studying what looked to be someone’s latest theory on the uses of belladonna in tinctures. Knowing better than to interrupt, Merlin busied himself cleaning of jars and vials and making a list of what they were running low on.

Finally, he heard the contemplative sigh that meant Gaius wasn’t completely sold on the new theory and glanced over his shoulder to see the book being carefully shut. Immediately Merlin abandoned his work.

“That was bollocks,” Merlin said. “Arthur had no right to treat you like that.”

Gaius turned to him. “He is merely doing what he thinks is best.”

“No, he’s doing what Agravaine thinks is best and we both know that Agravaine doesn’t have Camelot’s best interests at heart.” Merlin shook his head. “Arthur has never expressed any doubt about your loyalty. Then this morning he has a little private chat with Agravaine and suddenly it’s necessary to interrogate you. It’s not right.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Gaius insisted. Merlin scoffed, ready to bring up a few previous examples of when false accusations of treason against Gaius had nearly ended horribly, like that time he’d nearly been burnt at the stake, but a knock on the door interrupted him. He exchanged a glance with Gaius before going to open it. He was greeted with the sight of a page.

“Can I help you?” Merlin asked. The page looked tired, but then it was getting late.

“Lord Agravaine requests your presence in his chambers,” the page announced. Well that was the last thing Merlin had expected.

“Did he say why?”

“No. Now if you’ll excuse me.” The page trudged off. Merlin stared after him, mind still processing the message. What on earth could Agravaine possible want to see him about at this hour? He glanced back at Gaius, who looked equally stunned.

“You may as well see what he wants,” Gaius said.

“I’m not entirely sure I want to,” Merlin admitted. Agravaine was clearly up to something and who knew if this summons had something to do with it.

“I’m sure it will be fine. After all, Agravaine is hardly going to do anything to harm you right under the king’s nose.”

No, Merlin supposed not. It was poor form to harm the king’s lover in his own castle. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. 

“I suppose I should get this over with,” Merlin muttered. He spent the entire walk to Agravaine’s chambers thinking of every possible thing that could go wrong. The door was slightly ajar when he arrived and Merlin was tempted to just barge right in and demand to know what this was about, if only to see the startled and irritated look on Agravaine’s face. But caution won out. Knocking politely, Merlin waited on the threshold, head bowed in feigned deference, until he was called to enter.

“Ah, close the door would you?”

Right, because that made Merlin feel so much better about this whole situation. But, he did as asked before coming to stand before Agravaine, hands clasped behind his back so it wasn’t as obvious that he was resisting the urge to punch his lover’s uncle in his smug face.

“Merlin, I realize what a loyal and trusted servant you are,” Agravaine began and Merlin nearly snorted. The world would likely have to end before Agravaine admitted that Merlin was a great deal more than just a servant. “So I have a very special errand for you.” He pulled out a knife, unsheathing it and bringing it uncomfortably close to Merlin’s face. “What do you think?”

Merlin eyed the knife carefully. “It’s beautiful,” he acknowledged. He had to stop himself from adding something along the lines of, _I’m sure it will look even better stained with my blood after you slit my throat_.

“Present for Arthur,” Agravaine confided. Relief washed over Merlin. So he wasn’t about to be murdered by Arthur’s traitorous uncle. “It’s been crafted by the sword smiths of Gedref, but unfortunately the blade has become somewhat dulled during the journey.” The knife went back into its sheath. “Would you sharpen it for me?”

“Of course.” Merlin accepted the knife and turned to leave.

“Oh and Merlin.”

He paused, waiting for Agravaine to go on.

“Leave it for the king to find in the morning.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” Out in the hallway, Merlin paused to lean against the wall. That hadn’t gone anything like he’d expected. There was still a bad feeling churning in his gut, but perhaps he was just being paranoid.

-

Arthur was awake when Merlin finally returned to his chambers, sipping the remainder of the wine as he stared contemplatively into the fire.

“I thought you were going to bed,” Merlin said, gently closing the door and crossing the room to stand beside the chair. Arthur blinked out of his thoughts, setting the wine on the table. His eyes caught on the glint of firelight reflecting off something in Merlin’s hand.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Hm?” Merlin followed Arthur’s eyes. “Oh.” He held it up, revealing it to be a knife. “A gift from your uncle. He asked me to sharpen it and leave it for you to find in the morning.”

“Ah. May I?” Arthur took the blade, drawing it out of its sheath to give it a more thorough examination. “Well made. Excellent balance.” He stared at it a moment longer before sliding it back into its sheath and holding it out to Merlin. “I want you to keep it.”

“Me?” Merlin asked, shocked. “But-“

“I’ve plenty of fine blades at my disposal,” Arthur said. “You should have some means with which to defend yourself.” Merlin accepted the blade back.

“I don’t know much about how to use a knife,” Merlin said.

“I’ll teach you then.”

“You’re a poor teacher.”

Arthur scoffed. “I am an excellent teacher. Perhaps you are simply a poor student.” Merlin snorted, a smile starting to curl the corners of his lips upwards. Standing, Arthur took the knife and put it aside on the table before pulling Merlin towards him for a kiss. His hands slid up under Merlin’s tunic, gliding along the smooth skin of his back. Before he could get much further than that, Merlin broke the kiss and took a step back.

“Look, about this afternoon,” Merlin began. “I just don’t understand why you would doubt Gaius of all people.” Arthur sighed.

“I told you, Merlin, he’s hiding something. He lied during the questioning.”

“So? Everyone has secrets, Arthur. Someone as old as Gaius likely has more than most. It is not your right to drag them all to the surface.”

“Isn’t it, though? Should a king really just accept that someone who is both a friend and advisor is lying to him?” Arthur sighed again, weary. “Do we really have to discuss this right now? Can you not just let me take you to bed?” He began to move backwards, drawing Merlin with him towards the bed, already turned down for the night. Indecision warred in Merlin’s eyes, but in the end he let the subject drop, following after Arthur and allowing himself to be pulled down onto the sheets where Arthur took great care in undressing him.

-

Merlin arched, lips parting in a gasp of pleasure. Arthur couldn’t resist placing his mouth on Merlin’s pale throat, trailing kisses down to his collarbone where he set to leaving a mark.

That was when the warning bell went off. 

Arthur froze. For a moment he was torn. He couldn’t just ignore the warning bell, but it was hard to convince himself to leave Merlin, who was still trembling beneath him. Pounding on his door made the decision for him. He managed to pull out of Merlin (Merlin winced and made a displeased noise) and ensure they were both adequately covered before the doors were thrown open.

“Sire-” Leon froze, horror flashing across his face as it became clear what he was interrupting. Arthur heard Merlin sigh. 

“Yes, Leon?” Arthur prompted. Leon shook himself.

“Lord Agravaine requests your presence at once, sire,” he reported. 

“Where?”

Leon’s gaze flickered just briefly to Merlin. “Gaius’s chambers.”

Fuck. “Alright. Give us a moment.” 

Leon bowed and let himself out. Arthur immediately got out of bed and began to dress. When he saw Merlin doing the same he was tempted to tell his lover to wait here, but that would go over about as well as Merlin walking in on him and Agravaine questioning Gaius had. Not well at all.

Guards were already tearing Gaius’s chambers apart when they arrived. Merlin immediately moved to stop them, but Agravaine blocked his way.

“What is the meaning of this?” Merlin demanded. Agravaine sneered at him and Arthur frowned.

“Uncle, what are you doing?” Arthur asked. He grasped Merlin’s shoulders and pulled him away.

“It seems we were right after all, sire,” Agravaine said. “Gaius has fled. I’ve ordered his chambers to be searched for evidence.”

“What?” Merlin grew tense under Arthur’s hands, disbelief clear in his voice. “You must be mistaken.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur intervened. The last thing he wanted was to have to break up an argument (or possibly a fight) between his uncle and his lover, but considering the situation at hand that may be inevitable. Still, he would do his best to mitigate it. “While I agree that he was hiding something when we questioned him earlier, that’s hardly evidence of treason.” A jar smashed to the ground, making Merlin wince. Papers and books and pouches full of herbs were scattered carelessly across the floor.

“My lord, he was seen riding away from the city,” Agravaine insisted.

“No, that can’t be true,” Merlin argued. Some of the anger had been replaced by worry and Arthur squeezed his shoulders, trying to offer some measure of comfort.

Leon came into the room. “Sire,” he nodded at Arthur before approaching Agravaine. “You were right. A white stallion has been taken from the royal stables.” Merlin jerked out of Arthur’s grip, looking anxiously around the room.

“Well where would he be going?” Arthur asked. “Why leave at this time of night?”

“Well I could hazard a guess, sire, but I think a thorough search of his belongings may well provide us with the truth,” Agravaine said. Merlin whipped around to stare at Arthur in disbelief. _Are you really just going to stand there and let this happen_? he silently demanded. Right at that moment one of the guards made an exclamation of triumph and held up a book. A book of magic. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line. As he turned away, unable to watch anymore of this treachery being uncovered, he caught the look of utter confusion on Merlin’s face.

-

Agravaine brought an entire stack of books to the council chambers, each with a title more damning than the last. He set them proudly before Arthur, who sat at the table and started rifling through them. Merlin stayed back, leaning against one of the columns. He feared if he moved any closer he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from strangling Agravaine or stabbing him with the nearest pointy object.

“And this was found in Gaius’s chambers?” Arthur asked.

“I am as disappointed as you, sire,” Agravaine said. The false sympathy dripping from his words only made Merlin angrier. “Someone so close, so...trusted. It’s not merely the discovery that he was a sorcerer, is it. It’s...it’s the lies. Lies and years of betrayal.” Arthur dropped the book he was holding and the look on his face broke Merlin’s heart. Was that what Arthur would look like on the day he found out about Merlin’s lies?

“I know it’s hard to believe, isn’t it Sire,” Agravaine continued. Merlin wanted to scream at him to shut up. “But we both saw him refuse to condemn magic. We both knew he was hiding something. Neither of us wanted to believe it, but now with this hasty departure in the middle of the night. These are not the actions of an innocent man sire. There can be no doubt. Gaius is the traitor.” It was actually impressive, really. Agravaine was good, really good. He knew how to sell a story. He knew how to spin it so that the blame lay equally heavy on Arthur, even though it was Agravaine who had set this whole thing in motion. Merlin wanted to rip Agravaine’s silver tongue right out of his mouth. He knew a spell that would suffice. It would be messy and bloody and painful and Agravaine would deserve every moment of it for what he had done. What he was still doing.

Feigning regret, Agravaine said, “I’ll send out a search party as soon as possible.”

“No,” Arthur countered. “What purpose will that serve? Let him run.”

“As you wish sire.” Agravaine bowed and turned to leave. He locked eyes with Merlin as he passed and the servant wondered if Agravaine was aware of the gleam of triumph in his eyes.

Merlin waited until the doors were firmly shut behind Agravaine before speaking. “How can you believe this?”

“I know how you must feel,” Arthur said. There was a profound sadness in his voice. “We questioned him. He’s been consorting with sorcerers, he more or less admitted to it.”

“What does that mean? He more or less admitted to it? Did he actually say he’s been consorting with sorcerers?”

“No,” Arthur admitted. “He didn’t say it outright. But he wouldn’t answer any of our questions directly.”

“And that makes him a traitor?”

“Why run if you have nothing to hide?”

“He’s given his life to this kingdom, he would never betray you.”

“Then explain his actions.” There was something there in Arthur’s voice, a glimmer of hope, begging Merlin to come up with an explanation that would exonerate Gaius. You would miss it if you didn’t know Arthur well. Merlin looked at him, knowing his explanation wouldn’t be the one Arthur was looking for.

“Alright.” Anger started to slip into his tone. “They’re lies. Gaius would never run off in the night.” Before Merlin had even finished speaking, Arthur had an exasperated look on his face.

“Look, I know it’s hard,” Arthur said. “But no break ins were reported. His possessions are missing, a horse has been stolen.”

“He would not leave without saying goodbye to me,” Merlin insisted. Immediately he turned away, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. Grief and anger made him reckless. “Agravaine has made this story up.”

“I shall ignore that last comment,” Arthur said.

“Because he’s your uncle you will not see who he really is-”

" _Merlin_.” Arthur’s voice was sharp. Merlin turned his head just enough to see his king’s expression. It was hard, almost angry. “I’ve had my heart broken enough already today. Don’t make it worse.” The implied threat was clear. Merlin bit down on his tongue to hold it back. Getting to his feet, Arthur grabbed one of the books and held it up for emphasis. “Gaius condemned himself.” He slammed the book down on the table and gave Merlin a hard look as he passed. “There’s no more to be said.” He flung the council chamber doors open and left.

Merlin slumped against the column.

-

Gwen woke to the news that Gaius was a traitor and had fled Camelot in the middle of the night. At first she thought it was some bizarre joke. She even laughed until she saw that Elyan’s stony expression remained unchanged.

“Gaius isn’t a traitor,” Gwen said. “He would rather die.”

“Evidence was found in his chambers,” Elyan said. “Spellbooks. Not to mention the missing horse and some of his possessions are gone.” Elyan sighed. “I don’t want to believe it, Gwen. Nobody does.”

Gwen put a hand to her mouth, trying to wrap her mind around it. “Merlin,” she blurted after a moment. “How is Merlin?”

Elyan shrugged. “I haven’t seen him yet today.”

Wasting no time, Gwen bid her brother goodbye and made straight for Gaius’s chambers. When she opened the door Merlin’s head whipped around. His expression quickly faded from hopeful to disappointed and he turned away again.

“Thought you were him,” Merlin said. Gwen went and sat beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Agravaine’s behind this,” Merlin continued, starting to gather up the papers spread out in front of him. “He’s done something to Gaius.”

“Have you spoken to Arthur?.”

“He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Maybe I can talk to him,” Gwen offered, though she was doubtful of her success. She just couldn’t stand the heartbroken look on Merlin’s face. “I’m not sure anything will convince him though. Agravaine’s his uncle, after all. He trusts him completely.”

“Yes,” Merlin said, a bitter edge to his tone. “I know.”

-

By the time afternoon was fading into evening Arthur was starting to feel numb. He hadn’t seen Merlin since that morning. According to Gwen he was in Gaius’s chambers, stubbornly clinging to his belief in his mentor’s innocence.

" _You have to admit, the circumstances are a bit odd_ ," Gwen had said. It angered Arthur that she was the second person to bring suspicions against Agravaine. He could only assume Merlin had talked her into it, since Arthur had all but said he would banish Merlin for bringing it up again. Agravaine was his uncle. Yes, he’d been estranged for many years, but that wasn’t because of Arthur, that was because of his father. Just as Agravaine was the last family Arthur had, so too was Arthur the last family Agravaine had. If they didn’t stick by each other then who would?

The door to his chambers opened. Arthur looked up, ready to tell whoever it was to leave him be, and froze when he saw Merlin.

“I can’t make sense of this,” Merlin said. Arthur went to him, pulling him into his arms. For a moment he thought Merlin might push him away, but he melted into the embrace.

“Betrayal rarely makes sense,” Arthur said, thinking of his own experience with it. He felt Merlin shake his head.

“You don’t understand,” Merlin said. “All those books Agravaine claims he found, I’ve never seen any of them, not once in the six years I’ve been living here.”

“Well, clearly Gaius is good at hiding things-”

“But they weren’t hidden.” Merlin leaned back, looking Arthur in the eye. “One of them was covered by a piece of parchment, Arthur. If Gaius were really stupid enough- and we both know he isn’t- to just leave stuff like that lying around in the open then why is this the first time I’ve seen any of it?”

Arthur brushed hair back from Merlin’s forehead and said without really thinking about it, “You have to admit, Merlin, you aren’t the most observant person.” Merlin’s anxious confusion smoothed out into cold anger.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” he asked coolly.

“Just…” Arthur searched for words, kicking himself for saying that. “You…” He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is-”

“You think I’m an idiot,” Merlin concluded. “Just like everyone else.”

“No,” Arthur immediately denied. “No, I don’t think you’re an idiot, Merlin. In fact, you’re probably the smartest person-”

“Stop.” Merlin planted his hands on Arthur’s chest and pushed him away. “Just… stop.” He took a deep breath, expression firming with resolve. “Why are you so convinced that Agravaine is innocent?”

God, not this again. “Merlin-”

" _Why_ , Arthur? What has he done to earn so much of your trust? What has he done to convince you he’s more deserving of it than someone who has known you your entire life?”

“He’s my uncle.”

“So?” Merlin’s voice began to rise in volume. “What does that have to do with anything? Morgana is your sister and look at what she’s done! Look at what your father’s done! They-”

“Merlin, enough!” Arthur felt his cheeks going hot with anger. How dare Merlin. How dare he drag up those painful memories right now. But Merlin wasn’t to be deterred.

“Why won’t you believe me?” he demanded, voice still rising. “You have no reason to trust Agravaine more than Gaius, more than me! If Agravaine cares so much, if he’s so great, then where has he been all these years? Why only come crawling out of the woodwork when your father was ill? Don’t you see what’s happening? He’s manipulating you! He’s using you! He-”

" _Merlin_!” Arthur thundered. He didn’t realize he’d raised his hand until he saw the anger on Merlin’s face transform into shock, then start sliding towards betrayal. His own anger vanished before his hand had even dropped back to his side, replaced by cold horror. Had he really been about to hit Merlin? Merlin, who was very understandably upset right now because whatever Gaius was to Arthur, it was nothing compared to what he was to Merlin. Gaius was the only father Merlin had ever known. Arthur remembered the choked words in the council chambers- " _He would not leave without saying goodbye to me_!" and the tears he’d ignored. Arthur swallowed. “Merlin-” He moved forward with an outstretched hand, but Merlin took a quick step back. He shook his head, expression smoothing into something unreadable.

Before Arthur could even try to apologize or explain or whatever he was planning to do because he wasn’t entirely sure himself, Merlin turned his back and walked out of the room.

-

Arthur may be willing to sit back and do nothing while Gaius was framed, but Merlin refused to let it go so easily. He returned to his room where he paced for a bit, contemplating the merit of going back to Arthur’s chambers and telling him about how he’d seen Agravaine leaving Morgana’s hut. But in addition to being too angry to speak to Arthur right now, Merlin had the awful feeling that Agravaine would simply twist anything he said into a reasonable sounding explanation.

So Merlin went snooping. He was reckless about it, not bothering to check where Agravaine was or when he would return to his chambers. From under the bed he pulled out a chest filled with magic books like the ones found in Gaius’s chambers. For a moment he considered taking them straight to Arthur as proof that Agravaine, not Gaius was the traitor. But it would be his word against Agravaine’s and Merlin’s word never seemed to count for much in those situations.

Next his eyes caught on the boots. There was mud on them. Odd, considering that Agravaine was not known to have left the castle recently. Merlin dragged his finger through the mud and frowned because it turned out the substance wasn’t mud. He didn’t know what it was, just that it was a strange reddish color and smelled metallic. 

Before he could continue his search, Merlin heard the door opening. Thinking fast, he dove behind the changing screen, hardly daring to breathe. It worked out. As Agravaine was moving behind the changing screen himself, lost in his own thoughts, Merlin slipped away around the other side and quietly tiptoed out, immediately hightailing it back to Gaius’s chambers. He opened the door and froze on the threshold when he saw Gwaine sitting at the workbench.

“Don’t you have something you should be doing?” Merlin asked, a little more sharply than he intended.

“Got tired of playing soldier,” Gwaine said, standing. “Thought I’d come see how you’re doing.”

“I’m busy.” Merlin left the door wide open as a silent invitation for Gwaine to leave and retrieved a book from the bag he usually used for collecting herbs. He sat down and began looking through it, decidedly ignoring Gwaine, who ignored the invitation of the open door to stare awkwardly at Merlin.

“Look, everyone’s heard about your fight with Arthur,” Gwaine blurted.

“Is there no privacy in this place?” Merlin snapped.

“Sadly not.” Gwaine looked at the book Merlin was flipping through. “What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing.” Merlin paused. He really shouldn’t be so short with Gwaine when he was only trying to help. Holding up the hand smeared with the odd dirt, Merlin asked, “Do you know what this is?”

“Might do,” Gwaine said. He stepped forward and took a little of the dust from Merlin’s fingers, feeling it, sniffing it. “Iron ore. Where’d you get this?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Merlin immediately deflected. “Does it help us?”

“Iron ore is extremely rare. In fact, there’s only one place in Camelot where I’ve seen it.”

“Where?”

“On a patrol at the Ridge of Kemeray. They've been hewing iron from rocks there for hundreds of years.”

Immediately Merlin got up and made for the door.

“Merlin?” Gwaine called, but Merlin was focused on only one thing: get to Kemeray. He didn’t notice until he’d arrived at the stables that Gwaine had followed him all the way there.

“What are you doing?” Merlin asked, watching Gwaine saddle up his horse.

“Coming with you, of course. I assume we’re going to rescue Gaius?”

For the first time since this whole mess had started, Merlin smiled. “Yeah, to rescue Gaius.”

-

It didn’t take long for Arthur to start feeling guilty about what had happened. There were any number of things Arthur should be doing, but he ignored them all in favor of searching for Merlin. Only, Merlin was nowhere to be found. He searched Gaius’s chambers, the kitchens, the laundry, the royal gardens, anywhere that Merlin had set foot in before. Then he learned that Gwaine was gone as well.

“I saw them riding out of the city,” a guard admitted. “I apologize, sire, I assumed they had your permission or that it was a simple errand.” The guard ducked his head, awaiting punishment, and Arthur deflated. How could he punish the man? After all, it wasn’t unusual for Merlin to leave the city, not when he was apprenticed to a physician and often had to search the surrounding woods for herbs. Even his knights came and went on a fairly regular basis, either on patrols or investigating something. This also wouldn’t be the first time Gwaine had chosen to use spare time to follow Merlin around and spend time with him. The two of them still had a close friendship.

“It’s alright,” Arthur said. Tension drained out of the guard’s shoulders. “Keep a close eye out and inform me the moment they return.”

“Yes, sire!”

Arthur strode back into the citadel. What should he do now? Should he send someone out after them? Would Merlin even return of his own free will? After all, it was obvious to Arthur that he had gone in search of Gaius. What if he got himself into trouble during his investigation? Gwaine would certainly do his best to protect him, but would it be enough?

Maybe it was for the best. Merlin obviously wasn’t going to let this go any time soon, so maybe it would be best to give him some time away from Camelot, time to come to terms with what had happened. Arthur would set a deadline. If he’d heard nothing of Merlin or Gwaine by the following afternoon then he would send a patrol out to find them.

-

They stopped for a break halfway through the journey at Gwaine's insistence to give the horse's a bit of rest. Merlin busied himself with building a small fire, partly for something to do and partly because this late it was chilly out. For once, Gwaine was silent, even when they were both sitting by the fire, staring at the flickering flames and the smoke curling gently up into the tree branches above them.

"I just never know where I stand with Arthur," Merlin admitted into the silence. "Sometimes he acts like he values my opinion more than anything and others...other times he treats me like an idiot. I never know when it's safe to speak out or not." 

"Doesn't ever seem to stop you," Gwaine pointed out. "You've never backed down from challenging him."

"Yeah, well, someone has to." 

A few moments of silence passed broken only by the cackle of the little fire. 

"The problem," Gwaine said, "is that you're a servant. And I mean that in the best way possible." 

Merlin snorted. "Thanks." 

"What I mean is Arthur wants to treat you like his equal, but as long as you're a servant you can't be his equal. So he finds himself falling back into old habits."

Merlin let that thought swirl around in his mind for a moment. It felt true. Arthur had always kept something of a deliberate distance between them, a parody of the barrier between master and servant. It was supposed to be in equal measure for Merlin's protection and Arthur's own comfort. At least, that was the idea when Uther was alive. But Uther was dead now. Arthur was king. Like they said, old habits die hard.

“We should keep moving,” Gwaine said. Nodding, Merlin doused the fire and they mounted up, riding on. Every second seemed to drag on. Merlin couldn’t stop thinking that they may be too late.

At last they arrived at the edge of the forest, a hill sloping rather steeply down to a cave entrance. As he and Gwaine entered Merlin felt a shiver race down his spine. He could sense magic in the air, just a hint of it. This had to be the right place.

When they came to a fork Merlin said, “We should split up.” Gwaine didn’t look like he particularly liked the idea, but he agreed. It was the only way to make sure they covered all ground.

-

Splitting up turned out to be ideal when Morgana made an appearance with a man Merlin could only assume she’d hired to help with Gaius’s kidnapping. At least Gwaine still had a chance of finding Gaius and getting him somewhere safe. Honestly, Merlin hadn’t fancied his chances against Morgana and a sorcerer of unknown strength. Things had seemed to grow even bleaker when the sorcerer announced that he knew who Emrys was.

Except this strange sorcerer, whom Merlin had never met before, had turned on Morgana. Alator of the Catha, as it turned out he was called, had then dropped to his knees and sworn loyalty to Merlin right then and there. It left his head spinning. In the end, Merlin chose not to think too much about it. He was here to save Gaius and if Alator wanted to help him, then fine. He would take it.

Alator lead him straight to the right cave, pulling up short when he took in the room. “I don’t understand. He was here. I swear to you Emrys, he was here and he was alive.”

“I believe you,” Merlin said. “I didn’t come alone. Gwaine must’ve already found him and left. I told him not to wait for me.”

It was a quiet walk out to the forest edge. Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to think of Alator. There was something incredibly brave about turning on Morgana in support of Merlin’s destiny, but Alator had only learned of that destiny because had had tortured it out of Gaius. At the same time, Merlin could understand. It was hard living in a world where who you were was grounds for your execution. Sometimes Merlin wondered if he would still be in Camelot if people didn’t keep yammering on about destiny. It was that sense of purpose, that shred of hope that one day things would be different that kept him on course.

But what if it wasn’t worth it? What if in the end he was wrong? What if this prophecy people spoke of, his destiny, wasn’t real, just a story everyone had made up and clung to because they needed something to keep them going during the dark times of the Great Purge? Kilgharrah had always said that things would be different when Arthur was king, but Arthur’s reign had started months ago. Sure, he didn’t actively persecute magic as his father had, but there had been no change to the laws, no attempt to reach out to magical communities. And then there was Morgana. She hadn’t meant to, but Morgana had managed to make herself a symbol of the very evil Uther had feared would rise from magic. She’d let her anger and her fear consume her until she’d lost sight of what she was really fighting for.

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin yanked himself out of his thoughts and looked at Alator, who was looking at the ground. “What?”

“Gaius is someone very dear to you, is he not?” Alator asked.

“He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father,” Merlin said.

“I’m sorry for what I did to him.” Alator sighed. “I’ll understand if you can’t find it in yourself to forgive me. All I can do is apologize and strive from now on to be someone worthy of the world you’re trying to build.” Merlin stayed quiet, unable to think of anything to say to that. The world he was trying to build. _Was_ he trying to build something? Or was he just waiting and hoping it would fall into his lap?

He pushed it all to the back of his mind and focused on getting to the forest edge. There was only one horse there and Merlin didn’t recognize it. Morgana’s, probably. Another time it might’ve irked him that Gwaine had apparently taken both their horses, but two horses with lighter loads would travel faster than one horse burdened with a heavier one. Besides, despite his worry for Gaius, Merlin wasn’t exactly eager to return to Camelot. Last he’d spoken to Arthur had been the fight in his chambers, when Arthur had raised his hand. Merlin firmly believed that Arthur never would have hit him. It had been a thoughtless action, born from grief and frustration and Merlin’s incessant pushing. He could admit that it had been tactless to bring Morgana up, no matter how upset he’d been. On top of that, Merlin had now left Camelot for the second time without saying a word. He wasn’t really looking forward to what might be waiting for him upon his return. At least he could say he’d brought Gwaine with him this time.

“Guess I’m walking back,” Merlin muttered. He glanced at the dark sky and thought for a moment of waiting until morning, but there was no telling how long Morgana would remain unconscious. He wanted to be well away from there when she woke up.

“I could accompany you, if you like,” Alator offered. Merlin almost said no on principle. But Morgana wasn’t the only concern about a dark forest. There were bandits and wild animals out there as well. Merlin could fend for himself, of course, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone watching his back. Strangely, despite what Alator had initially been hired to do, Merlin had no doubt where his loyalties lay.

“Alright,” Merlin said.

-

A page came running into Arthur’s chambers without even knocking to inform him that Gwaine had returned, accompanied by Agravaine. Which was odd, considering Arthur hadn’t even been aware that his uncle had left the city.

“Gaius is with them,” the page reported. Arthur vaulted out of his chair and all but ran down to the courtyard. He ended up running into Gwaine at the top of the staircase and watched as a contingent of knights carried Gaius towards the physician’s chambers.

“What happened?” Arthur demanded.

“We found him,” Gwaine said simply. “He’d been kidnapped. He’s in a bad way.” Arthur caught the knight’s arm before he could move past.

“And Merlin? Merlin was you wasn’t he? I can’t find him anywhere and one of the guards last night said he saw you riding out together.”

“He was with me,” Gwaine confirmed. “We had to split up to make sure we didn’t miss anything and I wasn’t able to find him before leaving, but-“

“Gwaine!” Arthur snapped.

“But don’t worry, princess!” Gwaine patted his shoulder. “Elyan and Percival are already riding out to find him. They shouldn’t be long. According to Agravaine, the people responsible for this had already left by the time we showed up.” Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“If anything happens to him-“ he warned.

“You have full permission to string me up by my thumbs or throw me in the stocks or make me next training session's practice dummy,” Gwaine finished for him. “Believe me, if Gaius weren’t in such bad shape I’d never have left him.”

-

The sound of approaching hoofbeats startled Merlin. He was just about to dive off the path and hide in the bushes until whatever was approaching had passed when the horses came into view and Merlin recognized the riders as Elyan and Percival.

“What are you two doing out here?” Merlin asked, perhaps more accusatory than he’d meant, but he’d parted ways with Alator not five minutes ago.

“Gwaine sent us,” Percival explained. “Moment he returned he said he’d had to leave you back at the mines and someone should go and make sure you’re alright.”

“He didn’t have to do that,” Merlin said. “I’m the one who told him to leave if he found Gaius and, as you can see, I’m making my own way back just fine.”

“I suspect Arthur was a component in the decision,” Elyan said. “Namely, Gwaine doesn’t want our king tearing his bollocks off for leaving you on your own.” That was a fair point. Especially with how Merlin had been captured by bandits working for Morgana recently. “Hop on with one of us and we’ll get going.”

“Right.” Merlin glanced at Percival before making firmly for Elyan’s horse, pulling himself up behind the knight. Percival frowned at him. “What? You know I don’t mean any offense by this, Percival, but your horse already has quite a load to carry.”

“He’s got a point,” Elyan said as he urged his horse into a walk. Percival looked like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t find anything to argue about. He just shook his head, sighed in a way that said they were probably right, and followed after Elyan.

-

Merlin arrived back in Camelot looking tired, but otherwise none the worse for wear. He barely glanced at Arthur as he brushed past him and made straight for Gaius’s chambers. Arthur glanced at Elyan and Percival, who were studiously looking anywhere else, before turning and following his lover. But he paused before following Merlin into Gaius’s room, choosing instead to stand just outside the door and watch as Gwen welcomed Merlin back with a hug before starting a discussion with him in a low voice. Probably about Gaius’s condition, which was pretty bad. The old man was lucky to be alive. Feeling like an intruder, Arthur quietly shut the door and returned to his own chambers.

He ordered a flagon of wine, poured himself a goblet full, and then immediately lost all desire to drink it. Why did he keep creating these messes? Why did he keep hurting people he cared about?

He didn’t know how much time passed until he heard his door open. He stood when he saw Merlin entering the room.

“How is he?” Arthur asked.

“Gaius will be alright,” Merlin said. “He mostly needs rest.”

Arthur held out his hands, waiting until Merlin had put his own in them to say, “I’m sorry.” He’d had a whole speech planned practically since that horrible moment when he had come too close to hitting Merlin last night. It all seemed inadequate now though.

“You’re a good man, Arthur,” Merlin said softly. “A good king. But you need to learn to trust yourself.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I’m not- I wasn’t ready for this.”

“You _are_ ready,” Merlin insisted. He rested his forehead against Arthur’s. “You’re the only one who can’t seem to see that.”

Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say to that so he simply repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology,” Merlin said. He wrapped his arms around Arthur and sagged against him and the weight of someone in his arms had never felt better to Arthur. He vowed then and there to do better, to make sure nothing like this ever happened again.


	5. The Lamia

-

“I can’t tell who looks more nervous,” Gwen leaned in to whisper. “You or Arthur.”

“What’s he got to be nervous about?” Merlin muttered back. “All he has to do is sit here and wait for us to come back. I’m not a physician, Gwen. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Rubbish. Who is it that treats the knights when they get themselves hurt running off on their quests and adventures? You. And, just between you and me, Elyan has informed me that the knights much prefer coming to you for treatment than Gaius.”

Merlin looked at her. “Really?”

“You’re more personable.” Gwen patted his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Gaius would never have suggested it if he didn’t think you were capable.” Before Merlin could respond, Arthur came up to them.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” Arthur asked. He glanced at both of them, but Merlin was sure it was him the king was talking to.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Gwen promised. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “And I will make sure to keep an extra special eye on Merlin, just for you.” A smile flashed across Arthur’s face.

“Well if you’ll be looking after him then I really don’t have anything to worry about do I?” Arthur said. Merlin rolled his eyes at the both of them.

“You may as well not even send the knights,” Gwen said.

“Is that so? I think they may be a bit disappointed to hear that. Gwaine claims he’s going stir crazy.”

“Well, since they’re already here and ready to go it would be less trouble to take them along, wouldn’t it.”

“I agree. Why don’t you go make sure they’ve got everything they need?”

Gwen inclined her head, needing no further hint, and went over to the knights. The smile that had crept onto Arthur’s face during the conversation slipped off.

“There’s no reason anything should go wrong,” Merlin said. “Longstead isn’t even a day’s ride from here and I’ll have your four best knights and Gwen with me.”

“I would just rather you not end up kidnapped by bandits again,” Arthur said. “The presence of knights didn’t stop that from happening last time.”

“I’m not going to negotiate a treaty, Arthur. I’m going to a village to investigate an illness.”

Arthur pretended to smooth a wrinkle out of the cloak where it was draped across Merlin’s shoulder. He left his hand there. “You can’t deny you’re a magnet for trouble,” he said.

“That’s you,” Merlin corrected. “You’re the trouble magnet. I just end up getting dragged along for the ride. Actually, things will probably go a lot smoother without you there to attract trouble.” Arthur snorted. He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder before his hand slid down to tangle with Merlin’s.

“Just be careful.”

Merlin squeezed his hand. “I will.”

-

Four knights seemed a bit excessive in Merlin’s opinion. But then, considering everything that had happened lately it was hardly surprising that Arthur felt the need to surround Merlin with people in chain mail and carrying swords. Still, it made him feel far more important than he really was.

“You’ll do fine.”

Merlin glanced to his left and saw Gwaine had come up to ride beside him. “I’m not really comfortable with having the lives of an entire village in my hands,” Merlin said.

“I don’t think anyone ever really is,” Gwaine said. “Gaius wouldn’t have suggested it if he didn’t believe you were capable of it though.”

“What if it’s something really serious? Something I’ve never treated before? I don’t have nearly the amount of experience Gaius does and I’ve never worked on my own like this before.”

“What about all the times you’ve patched us up on the training field and out on patrols?”

“That’s different. Physical injuries are much more straightforward. There’s nothing complicated about applying pressure to a wound or securing a bandage. But this? This isn’t so simple. What if I prescribe a remedy that just makes things worse?”

“Merlin.” Gwaine’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Relax. Take a deep breath.” Merlin did so. “There. Everything will be fine. Worst case scenario, you don’t know what it is, in which case we just head back to Camelot and you hand your findings over to Gaius.”

“In which case I’ll have failed,” Merlin said.

“That’s a harsh way to put it.”

“Oh yeah? Then what would you call it?”

Gwaine gave it some thought. “Hitting a brick wall?”

“So… failure.”

“You’re determined to be negative about this aren’t you.”

Merlin sighed. “I can’t help it. I’m nervous.”

“Well you don’t need to be.” Gwaine flashed him a grin. “Everything will be fine.” He nudged his horse on up ahead to join Elyan, who had taken point. Merlin sighed through his nose. Gwaine was right, he told himself. Gaius would never have suggested this if he didn’t think Merlin could handle it. And Merlin had been taking his studies very seriously the past two years. He’d learned a lot. Maybe he didn’t have much experience working on his own when it came to illness, but he had to get that experience somehow, right?

-

The village was quiet as they rode into it, the villagers watching them warily. Merlin took a deep breath and tried to center himself. Everyone was right. Gaius would never have suggested making him acting physician if he hadn’t thought Merlin could handle the situation. He could do this.

A man pushed through a line of villagers waiting at the village center and Gwen’s friend Mary immediately leaped from her horse, running to embrace him. Gwen followed after.

“John,” she said, smiling and hugging the man. “It’s good to see you. We came as quick as we could.”

“Words cannot express our gratitude, Gwen,” John said. He looked over their party and frowned. “Where’s Gaius?”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, coming forward. “He was needed in Camelot, but I will help in any way that I can.” Mary was smiling, having taken quite a liking to Merlin over their brief journey, but John’s frown only deepened.

Ignoring Merlin, he turned to Gwen and said, “We’re living in fear for our lives. We need a skilled physician, not a boy.”

“His name is Merlin,” Elyan said fiercely, clapping a hand down on Merlin’s shoulder. Gwen firmed her expression and turned back to John.

“He was appointed acting physician by King Arthur himself,” she said. The confidence his friends had in him was bolstering and Merlin stood a little straighter. He could definitely do this.

“Where are they?” he asked. John stared at him a bit longer, evaluating. Finally he pointed to a hut just off to the side. Merlin made for it immediately, Gwen and John close on his heels.

Merlin paused for a moment on the threshold, taking in the scene. Three men, all young and, according to Mary, otherwise healthy. Merlin had seen a lot of sickness in his life, had watched it claim the lives of villagers in Ealdor and townsfolk in Camelot. Always, the first to be struck down were the frail. The elderly, the children, the infirm. That all three of these men were none of those unsettled him. Moving to the nearest patient, Merlin set Gaius’s medicine bag down and pulled out a small mirror, holding it close to the man’s nose. For a moment there was nothing and he feared they’d arrived too late, but then the mirror fogged, just a tiny bit. It was enough.

“They’re alive, but only just,” Merlin said. He turned to John. “How long have they been like this?”

“Two or three days,” John answered. “We’ve tried to feed them, keep them warm, but nothing seems to make any difference.” Merlin turned back to the medicine bag, running through treatments in his head.

“And you have no idea what happened to them?” Gwen asked.

“No. It just strikes suddenly without warning.”

“Well, we need to stimulate blood flow,” Merlin decided. He handed the proper ingredients to Gwen. “Poultice of betula oil should work and a tincture of belladonna to stimulate the heart.”

“Will it cure them?” John asked. “Will it bring them back?”

“Let’s see what the morning brings. Right now we need hot water and plenty of blankets.” Merlin glanced at Gwen, who nodded encouragingly at him. Smiling at John, she gently ushered him out of the hut to go get the needed supplies and prepare the poultice. The moment the door swung shut Merlin bent over one of the sick men, hand hovering just above his chest.

“ _Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare_.” Nothing happened. A few years ago Merlin wouldn’t have been surprised. Healing magic was difficult to master and often required someone who was serious about it to also study mundane medicine. It was no wonder the effectiveness of his healing spells back then had been sporadic. But Merlin had paid careful attention to his studies the past two years and that included healing magic. He didn’t have a lot of opportunity to practice it in Camelot, but he’d had enough to know he’d gotten reasonably skilled at it. He hadn’t expected his spell to heal the sick villager, especially as that would be too suspicious. He had, however, expected it to do something. If nothing else, he should’ve been able to sense something about the nature of the illness. But there was nothing.

-

Gwen watched anxiously the next morning as Merlin checked the patients. By the grim look on his face she guessed their attempt at treatment hadn’t been effective.

“I can barely feel a pulse,” Merlin said, looking up. Behind him the door opened and John stepped in, a hopeful look on his face.

“How are they?” John asked. Merlin met Gwen’s eyes before turning to face John.

“I’m afraid the treatments have had no effect,” Merlin reported.

“You mean they’re dying,” John said bluntly.

“I’m sorry.” A beat of silence. Then, “There’s something at work here that I don’t understand.”

“Are you suggesting sorcery?” John said it with the same fear and wariness Gwen had heard her entire life. The thought had also crossed her mind since last night and she had assumed it had crossed Merlin’s as well, but Merlin stumbled over his answer, like he couldn’t quite grasp why anyone would jump to that conclusion. Which, Gwen realized, wasn’t all that unusual. Merlin always got a bit weird when magic came up. Not fearful, just weird, like maybe he knew something that the rest of them didn’t.

“That’s… possible, yes.”

“I feared as much,” John said. “The other night, when I found Aldref, I felt a… a presence, a… an evil in the air.” Gwen felt a chill race down her spine.

“We need to get back to Gaius,” Merlin said, turning to Gwen. “Only he can explain this.”

As they hastily packed up, Gwen grabbed Merlin’s sleeve and pulled him aside. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. Merlin glanced around, making sure there was no one nearby.

“Last night I heard something outside,” he confided. “When I went to investigate I ran into Gwaine, so I thought maybe I was just imagining things. Nerves, you know?” Gwen nodded sympathetically. “But before I went back inside I heard it again. A hissing of some kind. Something was out there.”

“A snake?” Gwen guessed.

“Could be.” Merlin sounded skeptical of it.

“Do you really think there’s sorcery involved?”

“I honestly don’t know. It’s odd that an illness would only strike young, healthy men, but if there _is_ a snake nest near the village.” He shrugged.

“Could be they were bitten,” Gwen concluded. “Have you ever heard of a poison working so slowly?”

“Mortaeus flower,” Merlin said and Gwen immediately felt embarrassed for having forgotten it. “But I doubt we’re dealing with something like that.” He shook his head. “I don’t have the expertise to make a judgement on this matter. Better to return to Camelot and see if Gaius can figure it out.” At that moment Elyan appeared in front of them.

“You ready?” Elyan asked. “It’s time to go.”

-

Of course something went wrong. Merlin should’ve learned a long time ago that the rule of thumb in Camelot was that if something could go wrong, it would. There was nothing immediately suspect about rescuing a girl from bandits. Sure, Merlin had an odd, churning feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it seemed logical to attribute that to the situation in Longstead.

When the fight was done with Percival immediately went to the girl and cradled her in his arms. She was concerningly limp, though Merlin couldn’t see any indication of injuries, aside from her bound hands. Pulling out the medicine bag Merlin knelt by the girl and reached for her. The moment his hand brushed her arm she jerked awake and screamed and he nearly toppled over backwards in surprise.

Merlin stared at the girl as Percival calmed her. His magic prickled unpleasantly under his skin, a warning, but he wasn’t sure for what. A small injured girl hardly seemed like a threat. Then again, Merlin was sure people didn’t think of him as much of a threat either. And the fact that she had been so still before he’d touched her… It could be a coincidence. After all, she’d clearly been through a lot and waking up to a stranger hovering over you would startle anyone. But then why hadn’t she startled when Percival had pulled her into his arms? Merlin tried to put it from his mind, focusing on the injuries he could see on the girl’s wrists as Gwen gently undid the bindings.

But then it happened again when Merlin reached for one of her wrists. He felt hands on him, steadying him, and saw Leon staring at the girl with an odd expression.

“Are you strong enough to ride?” Leon asked. She nodded. “Then let’s get out of here, before they return.” Merlin swallowed back a protest and turned his attention to securing the medicine bag, barely even noticing when Elyan gave his shoulder a reassuring pat as he passed. Something about this girl, Lamia, made him feel like he should be looking over his shoulder for an attack. He was probably just being paranoid. After hearing that hissing sound at the village last night and learning that John too suspected there was something stalking the village it was no wonder he was so on edge. They’d bring Lamia with them back to Camelot, she'd go her own way, and that would be the end of it.

-

When two days passed and there was no word from Longstead Arthur called Gaius and Agravaine to the council chambers where they found him pacing. A thousand bad scenarios were chasing each other around his head. What had he been thinking, sending them off on their own like that? Yes, Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival were all competent knights and Gwen and Merlin weren’t helpless, but if a big enough band of bandits attacked them they would be overwhelmed. He should’ve sent more men. Or he should’ve just told Gwen’s friend that they would have to wait until Gaius was available. Or… something.

“It’s been two days,” Arthur said, coming to stand by the table. “They should be back by now.”

“There must be some delay at Longstead, sire,” Agravaine said.

“If there was a delay they would’ve sent word.”

“Then it must be the bridge is down at Brekford River.”

“No I already checked. A patrol passed through there yesterday.”

“Well should I send some scouts out to search for them?”

That was the logical solution and Arthur knew it, but it didn’t feel like enough. Besides, he didn’t think he could stand just sitting here waiting for news. “Gaius, is your work done here?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, sire, I’m satisfied the sweating sickness has all but passed,” Gaius said.

Excellent. “Then we leave for Longstead at first light.”

-

“Pack your bags,” Leon ordered. “We ride east with the rising sun.”

“Wait,” Merlin said. “East? Camelot lies west of here.” A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Lamia has asked that we take her home,” Elyan said.

“No we need to get Gaius,” Merlin insisted. It was like they’d all forgotten that they were actually on a vital mission, not just a traipse through the woods. Merlin had known each of these men long enough to know that something wasn’t right.

“Gaius can wait,” Gwaine said.

“We were sent to help the people of Longstead,” Merlin reminded them. “Their lives depend on us.”

Leon advanced on him, demanding, “You dare to question our judgement?” He glared down at Merlin. “You are not a knight. You’re not even a physician. You’re nothing but a servant.” Merlin was shocked silent. Never, not even in the early days of their acquaintance when Leon really _had_ thought of him as no more than a servant, had he ever spoken to Merlin like that. Even Gwen couldn’t seem to make sense of the behavior.

“Please,” she said, standing. “Listen, Merlin’s right, we have to get back to-“

“Stay out of this, Gwen,” Elyan snapped. “It’s none of your business.” That clinched it. Something was very wrong here. There was no one more precious in all the world to Elyan than his sister. He loved and respected her. For him to treat her like this was not normal. Merlin’s eyes moved to Lamia, to the way the knights surrounded her like they were her personal guard.

Gwen turned, giving him a look that was equal parts disbelieving and helpless. Merlin wished he could tell her the knights just needed a good night’s sleep and then they’d be back to normal, but he was positive now that there was magic at work here. He thought of the three healthy young men back in Longstead and the suspicion in the back of his mind grew. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do right now but stick close and stay watchful.

-

The further along the path to Longstead they got without any sign of Merlin and Gwen and the knights, the more worried Arthur got. This was it, he decided. After this, Merlin was never leaving Camelot again. Not without at least two dozen knights who would be sworn to protect him or die trying. Alright, maybe that was a bit extreme. The point was, Arthur was getting tired of losing track of his lover only to find him in some sort of trouble. For that matter, he didn’t like Gwen or his knights being in trouble either. Sadly, it would be counter productive to keep his knights locked up in the citadel.

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours from Longstead that Arthur began to notice the forest growing quiet. He called a halt to the party and the knight walking beside him immediately went to scout ahead. Arthur dismounted, tossing his cloak over his horse. He really hoped they weren’t about to run into bandits. Or perhaps he did. Maybe Merlin, Gwen, and the knights had been captured by bandits and now they could rescue them.

“Is there anything wrong, sire?” Gaius asked, appearing at his shoulder.

“Listen,” Arthur said softly. He let the air be filled with the unnatural stillness of the forest for a moment. “No birdsong, nothing.” After a lifetime spent on hunts, patrols, quests, all manner of things in the forest, Arthur was well aware of how unnatural silence was. The scout reappeared, giving a nod to indicate that there was something up ahead. Arthur turned and drew his sword, beckoning for the rest of his men to follow.

It was an encampment. Arthur approached cautiously, assuming the men were asleep, but as he came closer he noticed the men were as unnaturally still as the forest around them. He kicked a body over, already knowing what he would find. He knew death when he saw it. What was odd was that he couldn’t find any marks revealing how these men had died. They looked as if they’d simply fallen over where they stood and hadn’t gotten up again.

“Does anything strike you as odd about these bodies?” Arthur asked Gaius.

“Yes sire,” Gaius answered immediately, also looking baffled. “There’s not a mark on them.”

“Not so much as a scratch.”

Agravaine’s voice cut across the encampment. “Over here, my lord.” He was standing by a cart that was tilted into a ditch. The doors looked to have been forced open.

“Southron slave traders, by the looks of it,” Arthur said as he approached the cart.

“Well what were they transporting, some kind of animal?” Agravaine asked.

Gaius gave the cart a quick once over. “No,” he said, pointing to the scratches gouged into the wood. “These marks were made by humans. And whoever they were, they did anything they could to get out.” Arthur traced his hands over the scratch marks and they were indeed the size of a human hand. There was something deeply unsettling about this place, a sense of the unnatural in the air. A groan drew their attention to a man, slumped over a log. He was clearly in bad shape, but he was alive.

“Can he be treated?” Arthur asked.

Gaius didn’t look particularly confident as he looked the man over. “I can try, sire, but I’ll need time and somewhere to work.”

“He comes with us,” Arthur instructed one of his men, indicating the injured Southron. “We’ll make Longstead in a matter of hours.” And hopefully start finding some answers to the mystery of what the hell had happened to his lover, his friend, and his knights.

-

The further east they went, the worse things got, culminating in Elyan falling mysteriously ill. Just like the villagers.

“We have to do something,” Gwen said desperately. “Maybe we could try reasoning with them. Tell them Lamia is responsible.”

Merlin shook his head. “They didn’t listen before, they won’t listen now. Arthur’s our only hope now, we’ve been gone too long. He must know something’s wrong.”

“He’ll never find us, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

An idea popped into Merlin’s mind. “We need to give him some help.”

“How can we do that?”

“Leave a trail.”

“Of what?”

Merlin reached up and untied his neckerchief, holding it up. Understanding entered Gwen’s eyes. It wasn’t much of a plan and it hinged entirely on Arthur picking up their earlier trail, but Merlin had been on enough hunts and patrols to know that his king was an excellent tracker. Arthur would find them. Hopefully before it was too late for Elyan.

Too late for all of them.

-

The castle had an eerie feeling to it even from a distance. Up close, as they entered into an underground passage, Merlin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. They were running out of time and he had no idea what to do. It was tempting to take the torch Percival shoved into his hand and use it to set Lamia aflame, except that she was up by the front of the line and Merlin had been shoved to the back in the narrow passageway. Just as Merlin was wondering if this whole situation could possible get any worse the torches went out. Immediately Merlin turned away and used a spell to relight his. He thought it spoke volumes about the current situation that no one questioned how he’d done that so fast.

For a split second Merlin thought it was a blessing when the torches were lit again and Lamia was nowhere to be seen. He was just about to try suggesting once again that they make for Camelot when Leon plunged ahead into the passageway, the rest of the knights following after him. He shared a concerned look with Gwen before they hurried to catch up.

The passageway let out into a larger corridor and they spilled through a pair of doors into a large hall. It took a moment for Merlin’s eyes to adjust, but when they did he felt his stomach drop straight through the floor. Skeletons were scattered everywhere, piled against walls and pillars. It looked at first glance like the scene of an ancient battle, but something told Merlin these skeletons weren’t nearly so old. His magic sparked alarmingly under his skin. A lair, Merlin realized. This was a lair. And these skeletons were the remains of Lamia’s prey.

“It isn’t safe here,” Leon said. “We need to find Lamia, she could be in danger.”

“We’re the ones in danger, Leon,” Merlin said, well and truly fed up with whatever spell had been woven over the knights. This was not how he wanted to die. “She’s lead us into a trap!”

“That’s a lie!” Percival snapped.

“She’s poisoned your minds and you can’t see it,” Merlin continued. He knew it was a feeble chance, but he had to try and get through to them. He had no idea what manner of creature Lamia was and therefore no idea if he could defeat her.

“Enough!” Leon ordered.

Merlin, though, had never been one for taking orders. “It was Lamia that attacked Elyan.”

Leon whipped around. His eyes were wide and wild with an anger that didn’t belong to him. He advanced on Merlin, grabbing his tunic as he snarled, “I said _enough_!” and threw Merlin to the ground.

“Please!” Gwen’s voice echoed, cutting through the growing tension. “My brother’s hurt! We need to find him somewhere warm!” For a moment, Merlin thought Leon was going to ignore her and keep coming after him. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened. His only defense was his magic and if ever there was a worse time to reveal it then it would be now. But Leon stormed past him instead, the rest of their party scrambling to follow.

-

Gwen was shaking. She’d known Leon since she was a little girl and never had she been afraid of him. He could be almost overly proper and a bit of a stickler for protocol (though less so now that he’d spent enough time around Gwaine), but he wasn’t aggressive. She looked at Merlin as they were settling into the alcove Gwaine had found and saw Leon looming over him.

“You will stay here and you will do as Gwaine says,” she heard Leon order, voice threatening. “Do I make myself clear?” Merlin held his gaze the entire time, saying nothing. He only looked away when Gwaine viciously stomped a wooden box into pieces for firewood. Gwen wished she could be that unrattled by all of this. Arthur had teased Merlin in the past for being a coward, but Gwen didn’t think she’d ever met anyone braver.

Leon and Percival left, leaving the two of them with Gwaine. After a moment, Merlin came and knelt by Elyan.

“What’s happened to him?” Gwen asked, keeping her voice low in an effort not to draw Gwaine’s attention. “Can you tell?”

“It looks like the same thing that afflicts the men in Longstead,” Merlin said. He glanced at her. “But don’t worry. I’m sure Elyan will be fine. Those men have been like that for days so we have plenty of time to get Elyan help.”

-

The trail had gone cold. Arthur didn’t like it.

“Perhaps they headed for Camelot,” Agravaine suggested.

“No, Camelot lies west of here,” Arthur said. “Tracks heading east…” He bit his lip, thinking. Where the hell were they going? None of this made any sense. Arthur knew each of these men well. He knew Merlin and he knew Gwen. None of them were irresponsible enough to go wandering off to the east, especially when they were on a vital mission. He thought of the creature Gaius had spoken of back in Longstead, the lamia. What if they’d stumbled upon her? The knights and Gwen and Merlin being who they were would want to help a seemingly innocent girl and since they hadn’t made it back to Camelot they would have no idea that they were actually dealing with a dangerous magical creature.

“Let’s keep going,” Arthur ordered, mounted his horse, and led the party onward.

-

“I don’t understand it,” Gwen said. “Why have only the knights been enchanted? Why not us as well?”

Merlin glanced back at her. “You’re a woman.” Leon and Percival had been gone too long and now Gwaine had wandered off as well. If one of them didn’t come back soon he’d have to go looking for them, though Merlin couldn’t say he was happy with the thought of leaving Gwen and Elyan alone with a magical creature of unknown origin on the loose.

“So?”

“All the victims have been men.” Which hadn’t struck Merlin as entirely odd at first. It was possible the three men in Longstead being the first victims had merely been coincidence. But after everything that had happened since finding Lamia Merlin was positive that the victims being men was significant.

“So why haven’t you fallen under her spell?” Gwen asked. Merlin suppressed a wince. He’d hoped Gwen wouldn’t ask that question.

“I’m attracted to men,” he said.

“But you’re also attracted to women, aren’t you?”

Merlin sighed. “Yes.”

“So that can’t be it.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m not a knight,” Merlin tried.

“The three villagers weren’t knights either,” Gwen argued. “It’s something about you, Merlin. It’s the way she looks at you. Like you’re the enemy.” For a moment, Merlin thought, _this would be the perfect opportunity to tell Gwen. She already knows something’s up. There’s nobody around to hear me._ But the thought was almost immediately pushed out of his mind when a panicked yell echoed down the corridor.. That was it. No more waiting. If he didn’t act now none of them would make it out of this.

Merlin turned to Gwen. “Whatever you do, don’t leave this room.” Then he headed off down the corridor. He turned into another corridor and heard a hiss, just like the one he’d heard back in longstead. He thought he could see someone leaning against a column up ahead. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Arthur damn well better have picked up their trail by now.

“Gwaine?” Merlin whispered. He had a really bad feeling about this. “Gwaine!” It became clear immediately after touching Gwaine’s shoulder that he’d fallen victim to Lamia. This did not bode well for finding the others.

-

Arthur would never admit this out loud, but he was starting to think this search was hopeless. For all he knew they were heading in the complete wrong direction. They couldn’t turn back though. If Merlin, Gwen, and the knights really had run across this lamia creature then they were all in grave danger. If they abandoned the search now and tried again tomorrow it could be too late. Still, the lack of a trail was disheartening. Then Arthur caught sight of something unusual.

It was a piece of cloth, light in color, tied in a little loop and left hanging from a branch. Clothes snagged on branches all the time so it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary to find a scrap of cloth among the foliage, but this didn’t look like it had been snagged and tore off. It looked deliberate. And perhaps Arthur was just reaching for any shred of hope he could find, but he was quite certain this scrap of cloth was from Gwen’s tunic.

“Agravaine!” Arthur held up the cloth. “They’ve left a trail!”

“What makes you certain of that, my lord?” Agravaine asked.

“It’s from Guinevere’s tunic, I’m sure of it,” Arthur said. “We must be getting close.” He spurred his horse onward.

-

Merlin had never before had a problem with snakes. He recognized that they could be dangerous, but unlike Will who would freak out at even an oddly shaped stick, he’d never feared them. In fact, he’d once tried to convince his mum to let him keep a small one as a pet. Merlin had never before had a problem with snakes, but after this incident he was sure he would.

He’d left Gwaine where he found him and was now trying to track Lamia by the hissing he kept hearing. It wasn’t going well. In fact, it almost felt like she was taunting him. And then he heard Leon yell. Merlin took off sprinting, skidding to a halt when he almost ran past the room. Percival was off to the side, out cold, and Lamia was bent over Leon where he was sprawled on the ground. She looked up, eyes glowing green, and hissed when Merlin strode into the room.

“You won’t find me such easy prey,” Merlin said. Lamia leapt to her feet.

“Your magic holds no fear for me,” she sneered. “I could have killed you anytime I wished.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

-

Something was very wrong about this castle. Every instinct Arthur had was telling him to get the hell out of there, but he’d found the most telling sign of all at the entrance to the underground passageway: Merlin’s neckerchief. Bad feeling or no, they were going in.

“This hardly seems like the sort of place they would’ve taken shelter,” Agravaine said in an undertone. Clearly, he too was spooked by the abandoned castle.

“Normally I would agree,” Arthur said. “But what other explanation do you have for why Merlin left his neckerchief? It’s part of the trail.” Before Agravaine had a chance to argue further they heard a loud rumbling up ahead in the distance. Arthur didn’t hesitate, he took off running towards the sound, praying he wasn’t too late. They came out into a wider corridor and finally, up ahead, Arthur saw them. The knights were nowhere to be seen, but they had arrived just in time to see a giant, serpentine monster lash out with some sort of tentacle at Merlin and start dragging him down the corridor towards it. Arthur’s heart leapt into his throat. They were too far away. He would never make it in time.

“Get away from him!” The shout came from Gwen. As he ran towards them, Arthur watched Gwen take up a sword and charge towards the creature, thrusting the blade forward. Whatever damage she caused wasn’t enough to kill the creature, but it did force it to let go of Merlin. The creature swiped out with another tentacle, knocking Gwen off her feet now too. But Gwen’s heroics had bought Arthur enough time to reach it. With all the force he could muster, Arthur thrust his sword through the creature’s back. It collapsed to the ground, dead. Gwen let out a burst of relieved laughter. Merlin slumped to the floor.

“You found us!” Gwen exclaimed, scrambling to her feet and throwing her arms around Arthur. He hugged her back before gently disentangling himself to go offer Merlin a hand up from the floor. Immediately he pulled his lover into a fierce hug.

“Knew you’d pick up the trail,” Merlin mumbled against his neck.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.

“I’m fine. It’s the knights that are in trouble.”

“Where are they?”

Merlin pulled back. “Elyan is in that room just there, Gwaine is a little ways up the corridor, around that corner, and Leon and Percival are in a large chamber a little further along.”

“Did they all fall prey to the lamia?”

Merlin blinked. “How do you know about that?”

“Gaius,” Arthur said. “We found a camp of southron slave traders that had been completely destroyed. One of them was still alive so we took him to Longstead with us where he told Gaius about a girl they’d picked up who they began to suspect of weaving an enchantment over them. Apparently she escaped and killed them all but him. Gaius concluded that the creature sounded like a lamia. I think he said it was a mix between a snake and girl.”

“No doubt made by the high priestesses in the old days,” Merlin finished, rolling his eyes. “Can the men she attacks be treated?”

“According to Gaius, yes.”

“Good.” Merlin smiled, leaning against Arthur again. “I’m starting to think you’re right and I just shouldn’t leave Camelot anymore. This is getting to be a bit ridiculous.” Arthur huffed a laugh and held him close, directing his men to find the knights so they could head back to Longstead.

-

At the first opportunity, Arthur went to the building where his men were recovering. He wasn’t surprised to find Merlin and Gwen in there. From the looks of it they were handing out breakfast. “Merlin, Gwen,” he said, waiting until they both looked at him. “I’d like a private word with my men, please.” Gwen handed the last bowl to her brother, squeezing his shoulder before exiting the building. Merlin paused as he passed by Arthur, brushing their hands together.

“Don’t be too hard on them,” he murmured, then followed Gwen outside. Arthur took his time looking each of the four knights in the eye, taking a bit of vindictive satisfaction from the way they all looked away quickly. There was shame in their gazes, in their expressions, in their posture. Still, Arthur felt he had to make a point.

“The way you treated Merlin and Gwen was appalling,” Arthur said.

“We know,” Leon spoke up. “It was-”

“I don’t care if you were enchanted,” Arthur interrupted. “I expect each of you to give both of them a sincere apology before we leave Longstead, is that clear?” Four heads nodded, mutely. “And this better be the only time I hear of them being treated with such disrespect.” He stared his men down for a moment longer, until even Gwaine was squirming uncomfortably, then he left them to rest. Outside, he paused to take a moment to survey the activity in the village. Gaius had said the men would be ready to ride at first light tomorrow so Arthur had ordered that preparations be made today, to ensure they could leave as soon as possible. He just wanted to get home.

His eyes were drawn to Merlin, as they always seemed to be when his lover was in the vicinity. Arthur sighed, taking note that Merlin was helping with the packing. He went over.

“You don’t need to be doing that,” Arthur said, stopping beside Merlin. “In fact, I distinctly remember Gaius advising you to rest.”

“Advising is the keyword there,” Merlin said. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m injured.” That was a lie. Arthur had been seeing to other things when Gaius had examined Merlin, but he’d peaked in long enough to catch sight of bruises on Merlin’s back. Evidently, he’d been shoved around a bit. But of course Merlin didn’t want to cause a fuss over it, so Arthur took a deep breath and forced himself to let it go.

“So, being saved by a woman,” Arthur said instead. “That can’t feel good.”

Merlin straightened up and pretended to give it some thought. “Feels a lot better than being dead.”

“Does it? Being saved by a woman, being dead.” Arthur lifted his hands like a pair of scales and weighed them back and forth.

“Careful there,” Merlin warned, though he was smiling. “I might tell Gwen you’re making fun of her.”

“You wouldn’t.” Arthur frowned. “No, you would.” They were quiet for a moment.

“You weren’t too hard on them, were you?” Merlin asked.

“You’re far too forgiving,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin against him. Merlin smiled and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, leaning their foreheads together.

“It was an enchantment,” he said. “You know they would never treat me like that.”

“I know.” Arthur sighed. He pressed a quick kiss to Merlin’s lips. “It just makes me so angry.”

“Well, the lamia is dead now,” Merlin reminded him. “You killed it.”

Arthur smirked. “Does that make me your knight in shining armor?”

“No.” Merlin shook his head, frowning. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it, weren’t you?”

“No, absolutely not.” Merlin shoved at him, but it was clear he wasn’t serious. “You’re awful.”

“No I’m not. You love me.”

Merlin moved in close again, frown easing into a fond smile. “Yes, I do.”


	6. The Parting of the Ways

-

Agravaine’s arrival at the royal chambers was announced by a polite knock. Immediately Arthur set aside the papers he’d been absently perusing and called for his uncle to enter. “You wish to speak with me, my lord?”

“Yes, uncle, come in,” Arthur said. “There is something of the utmost importance we must discuss.”

“Has something happened?” Agravaine sounded alarmed.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Arthur assured his uncle. “Though, I fear you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?” Agravaine asked warily.

“I’m going to marry Merlin,” Arthur declared. “Assuming he says yes of course.” It took a few moments for the words to sink into Agravaine’s mind and then he jumped immediately into protests.

“But sire-“

“No, I know what you’re going to say uncle,” Arthur interrupted. “He’s a servant and it’s not the done thing.”

“I fear it’s a bit more serious than that, sire,” Agravaine tried. 

“Merlin’s counsel and support have proved invaluable to me over the years,” Arthur explained. “His place is by my side and I think it’s time for the people to see that.”

“You don’t need a spouse for that,” Agravaine protested. “I am your council and support!” This was not going well at all.

“I’ve made up my mind, uncle,” Arthur said firmly. “Merlin will be my consort and I hope you will accept him as such.”

-

Morgana was at a loss. She’d been prepared for Guinevere to attempt to usurp her throne. But Merlin? There’d been that dream once, a vision of Merlin in finery worthy of a king, seated at a round table at Arthur’s right hand. She’d assumed it merely meant he would be promoted to some position of importance in Arthur’s court. Physician, perhaps, or advisor to the king. Now she saw it for what it was. A glimpse of a possible future in which Guinevere did not take her crown, but Merlin did. Morgana had no plan for this. Merlin had always guarded himself carefully, friendly and open in a way that revealed nothing of his true self. With Gwen, Morgana had been prepared to pull Lancelot back from the grave. But Morgana knew of no past lovers for Merlin. Her mind drifted for a moment to Sir Gwaine, who she remembered had once looked at Merlin with more than the fondness for a friend, but that thought was discarded. Gwaine was too unpredictable and in any case Merlin had never seemed to return those feelings.

Frustrated, Morgana paced, ignoring Agravaine where he fidgeted by the fire with worry. There had to be something. Merlin harbored secrets, Morgana knew that, but what those secrets were eluded her. He kept them close, guarded them carefully. His loyalty to Arthur, bordering on the fanatic, was absolute. Still, there had to be a way.

“Return to Camelot,” Morgana ordered. “Keep an eye out for anything that may be of help to us.” Agravaine bowed and left and Morgana finally unleashed her frustration by hurling a goblet at the wall of her hut. She had to find a way to stop this. She _had_ to.

-

“I still don’t trust you,” Merlin said, a bemused smile on his face. “You’re up to something.”

“I’ve no idea why you would think that Merlin,” Arthur said. Merlin tossed a grape at him and Arthur managed to catch it as if bounced off his chest, popping it into his mouth.

“I know you, Arthur. You’re hiding something. I just can’t decide if this picnic is a part of it or if it’s unrelated.”

Arthur had put a lot of thought into his proposal, probably more than was necessary. He must have discarded hundreds of plans, each more elaborate than the last, before realizing that he was going about this all wrong. Since when had Merlin ever cared for an opulent lifestyle? Since when had he cared for fancy clothes and things? He hadn’t. Not ever. He liked simple, uncomplicated. More than that, Arthur knew Merlin loved being out in the forest. He was at home among nature in a way he never quite seemed to manage inside the citadel. So a picnic in the woods it was.

“Alright, fine,” Arthur said, getting up and pulling Merlin along with him. “You’re right, I am hiding something.”

“Ha! I knew it!”

“You can be terribly unromantic, you know that?”

“Me? Are you forgetting the first time you asked me on a romantic outing?”

Arthur shook his head. “ _Mer_ lin, I’m trying to do something here.” He got down on one knee and Merlin’s amusement turned to shock.

“Arthur, what are you-”

“I love you,” Arthur interrupted. There was a speech that Arthur had put a great deal of effort into writing and memorizing, but none of it would come to mind now. That probably wasn’t a bad thing, considering Arthur’s speeches tended to leave something to be desired. “I love you,” Arthur started again. “More than anything in the entire world. You’ve always pushed me to be the best man I can be, to become something more than I am. I don’t know where you get your wisdom-”

“I told you, once, I read a book.”

" _Mer_ lin."

“Sorry. Continue.”

“What I’m trying to say- if you would stop interrupting me- is that there’s no one else I would ever want by my side. Will you marry me?”

Merlin laughed, just a quick burst of it, and Arthur would’ve been insulted if not for the tears also glistening in Merlin’s eyes. “Yes,” Merlin said. He dropped to his knees and hugged Arthur tight. “ _Yes_.”

-

Merlin hadn’t really known what to expect when he’d said yes to Arthur’s proposal. Ceremony rehearsals, wardrobe fittings, and hunting for a grand feast, certainly, but outside of that he’d realized very quickly that he didn’t really know anything about marriage traditions in Camelot. The only weddings he’d witnessed so far in this kingdom were the one where an enchanted Uther had married a troll in disguise and the one where Arthur and Elena had almost been forced into marrying each other. Needless to say, a joust was the last thing Merlin had expected for an engagement celebration.

“A jousting tournament?” he said, unable to keep the surprise from his tone. Arthur’s face immediately did that _thing_ , the one where it sort of froze in this awkward little smile. It generally meant he was internally panicking.

“Yes, a jousting tournament,” Arthur said. He cleared his throat. “It’s tradition in Camelot. But of course, if you would prefer-“

“No, no a jousting tournament is fine,” Merlin quickly interrupted. When Arthur continued to look uncertain Merlin smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Arthur’s cheek. “It sounds fun, actually. I assume I get to just sit around and watch you and the knights bash each other with sticks?”

Arthur scoffed, though Merlin could see him relax a bit. “I suppose technically that is what jousting is,” he admitted. “Although I would never put it in such crass terms.”

Merlin’s smile broadened. “As I said, sounds fun.” And he meant it. By virtue of unavoidable exposure Merlin had become rather fond of tournaments and it would be nice to attend one where, for once, nothing would be expected of him but to sit back and enjoy himself. Usually he was running around after Arthur and if he wasn’t doing that then he was running around after Gaius.

“Excellent,” Arthur said. “I’ll see that preparations begin immediately.”

“Don’t act like you don’t already have this all planned out.”

“…Not _all_ of it planned out. But it _is_ tradition.”

-

The day of the tournament was clear and sunny. Arthur woke to find himself alone in bed, but he didn’t have to look far to find where Merlin had gone. His lover was sitting on the window sill, a fur draped over his legs to ward off the morning chill of spring.

“The bed is much more comfortable,” Arthur said. Merlin turned to face him and smiled.

“I woke up a little while ago and couldn’t get back to sleep,” Merlin said.

“Nervous?”

“A bit.”

“You know, if-”

“If you’re about to ask me if I’m nervous about marrying you, then no, I’m not. It’s just…” Merlin sighed. “There’s going to be a lot of people at this tournament, isn’t there?”

“As much of the city as can fit in the stands.”

“Right. It’s just, as much as they’ll all be watching the tournament, they’ll also be watching me. I’ve never really been the center of attention like that.”

Arthur slid out of bed and padded across the cool stone floor to stand beside Merlin. He wrapped his arms around him and pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it.”

“I know. I guess it didn’t really sink in until now.” Merlin started to get up. “I should go and get breakfast.”

“No, no.” Arthur held him in place.

“Arthur, what-”

“I’ve arranged for someone else to do it,” Arthur said. Merlin stared at him. “Merlin?”

“Someone else is doing it,” Merlin repeated slowly. “You just… gave my job to someone else? Without even telling me?”

Arthur winced. “To be perfectly honest, I knew you might be a bit upset about it. I’m sorry. But Merlin, in a matter of days we’re going to be married. You won’t be a servant anymore. You’ll be a prince.”

“Well I can still fetch my own breakfast!” Merlin protested.

“Yes, I suppose you can,” Arthur relented. “And if you really want to, I won’t stop you.”

Merlin was quiet for several long seconds before sighing and tucking his head under Arthur’s chin. “That would be silly, wouldn’t it.”

“Most people would consider it to be a bit silly, yes.”

Behind them the door creaked open. Arthur glanced over his shoulder and saw a servant bearing a large tray enter and start setting the table for breakfast. He looked back at Merlin and was amused to see his lover peeking over his shoulder.

“Oh no,” Merlin muttered. “That’s George.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone knows him.”

Arthur cast another glance at the servant, but couldn’t discern from it what about George Merlin found distasteful. “And does everyone dislike him as much as you apparently do?”

“Yes. Arthur, he tells jokes about brass. He’s the most boring person I have ever met and I’m including Geoffrey of Monmouth in that statement.”

“Wow.” Arthur’s eyebrows went up. “That bad, huh? Does George have any redeeming qualities?”

Merlin eyed the other servant. “I mean, he’s good at his job, but at what cost?” Arthur snorted, quickly turning it into a cough and hoping George was more focused on serving breakfast.

“Breakfast is served, my lord.” Arthur turned and George bent into a deep bow. When he straightened his spine seemed unusually stiff.

“Thank you, George,” Arthur said. “That will be all for now.” George bowed again. Arthur might have imagined it, but he thought George spared a moment to send a disapproving look at Merlin before he left. “What was that about?” he asked. “Did he _glare_ at you?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “George is under the impression that I never deserved a position in the royal household and something about it being an insult to all servants. And two days ago he said he was glad I would no longer be disgracing the ranks.” Arthur tried to hold in his laughter and failed, earning him a smack to the shoulder. “It’s not funny, it’s irritating!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Wow. See if I ever spend another night in here. Carry me over to breakfast.”

“Carry you?”

“Yes, carry me. It’s the least you can do. Prove to me that I’m marrying a brave, strong knight and not an ass.”

-

_This isn’t so bad_ , Merlin thought. If he kept his gaze focused on the tournament grounds and didn’t look to either his left or his right then he couldn’t even see the massive crowds that had turned out for his engagement tournament (he still couldn’t believe there was such a thing). He could hear them though. There was a lot of chatter. Of course, there was always a lot of chatter when waiting for a tourney to begin, but in his nervous state Merlin couldn’t help feeling like this particular chatter was more ominous. He wondered if they were discussing the potential outcomes of the jousting, as was usual, or if they were debating whether or not their king was making a terrible mistake by marrying his serving boy.

At least he wasn’t alone. Gwen had volunteered herself to fetch anything he may need during the tourney and stood beside his chair, radiating calm and strength. Unfortunately, Gwen wasn’t the only one keeping him company. Agravaine was seated to his left. Arthur had explained that as the king’s uncle Agravaine had a right to be sitting up there and because Merlin didn’t want to ruin the day he didn’t argue. In any case, it had so far proved to be quite amusing. Agravaine clearly did not approve of his nephew’s choice in spouse, but it would hardly do for him to voice such a thing in public. Instead, he sat stiffly in his chair, making pained grimaces that were probably supposed to be pleased smiles. They fell short. Very short.

Cheering from the crowd drew Merlin’s attention back to the pitch. Arthur had appeared at one end, giving a wave to the crowd before turning to the pavilion and bowing his head. A squire Merlin thought he recognized as Galahad handed Arthur a lance and after sliding his visor down Arthur lined himself up. The target was a small ring decorated with ribbons hanging at the halfway point.

“He looks a bit nervous,” Gwen said, leaning in close. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Merlin agreed. “Am I terrible for thinking it would be hilarious if he were too nervous to hit the target?” Gwen snorted and smacked him on the shoulder.

Down on the pitch, Arthur urged his horse into motion. Despite no doubt being nervous, as Gwen had observed, Arthur’s lance remained steady, sliding right through the center of the ring. The crowd erupted in cheers. Merlin suppressed his smile as he got up and went to the edge of the pavilion. Arthur trotted over and presented the favor, which Merlin accepted.

“Not enjoying yourself?” Arthur asked, observing Merlin’s lack of excitement.

Merlin shrugged. “I’ve always thought Elyan has better form.”

“Oh is that so. And you know so much about jousting.”

“With the number of tournaments I’ve had to watch over the years and all the time I’ve spent helping you train? Yes, I fancy I know a thing or two about jousting.” Behind him, Gwen suppressed a few giggles.

“Why don’t you come down here and prove how much you know?” Arthur challenged.

“At _my_ engagement tournament?” Merlin pretended to be scandalized. “I think not.” A smile started to break through. An answering one stretched across Arthur’s face and he finally turned away to clear the pitch. Merlin turned to go back to his seat and caught sight of Agravaine grimacing. It probably didn’t say anything good about him that he found Agravaine’s obvious torment over this situation amusing.

-

Dinner that night was odd. The moment Merlin walked into the small dining hall Arthur pulled him over to sit in the chair to the king’s right. Merlin had had a number of private dinners with Arthur that had involved sitting at the table, but those had been just the two of them. Now Arthur’s closest knights were there as well as a few servants. It was that most of all that made Merlin uncomfortable. He tried not to think too hard about it, but he was hyper aware of the servants moving about the table, serving everyone.

“Merlin, my friend, you look uncomfortable,” Gwaine said, slapping a hand on Merlin’s back.

“I’m just not used to being the one sitting at the table,” Merlin admitted. He glanced a bit nervously at the servants and wondered if they were judging him. “At least George isn’t here.”

“Good riddance,” muttered one of the servants. The other two snorted.

“See?” Merlin turned to Arthur. “I told you nobody likes him.”

“Who is George?” Percival asked. The rest of the knights looked confused as well.

“A very efficient, but terribly boring servant, apparently,” Arthur explained.

“Does he tell jokes about brass?” Leon asked. “Because if so, I believe I know who we’re talking about and I must agree with Merlin.”

"Jokes about brass?" Elyan asked, eyebrows creeping up towards his hairline. 

"They're awful," one of the servants said.

"And it's not just that, is it?" another one said. "He's so snotty. Like he's better than everyone else. _'My family has been serving noble families for the last eight generations_ '."

"Remember that time," Merlin started, "when he tried to tell Audrey her dinner rolls weren't sufficiently soft enough to be served to nobility?" Percival snorted wine out his nose and the atmosphere instantly felt ten times lighter. Merlin finally started to relax.

-

Gaius made a displeased sound as he examined his herb stores. “I’m running low on quite a few things.”

“I’ll go collect some then,” Merlin said immediately, jumping at the chance to leave the castle for a bit. The last few days had been a whirlwind and he needed a break from it. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

So Gaius wrote out a quick list of what needed restocking and Merlin grabbed his things and left. On his way out of the castle he passed by the throne room and caught a glimpse of the inside. His heart leapt into his throat. Servants were hard at work decorating it for the ceremony. What Merlin could see of it looked amazing, but he didn’t linger to watch, stomach doing flips at the reminder of what would be coming tomorrow. In fact, Merlin forced all thoughts of the impending wedding from his mind for a while and focused on the familiar task of gathering herbs.

But the thoughts couldn’t be kept at bay forever. Eventually, Merlin’s mind returned to tomorrow. Part of him was in total disbelief that this was happening. Somehow, no matter how many times Arthur said the words, “I love you” or how openly he expressed his affection, Merlin hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around the possibility that Arthur would actually ask him to marry him. There was an excited tingle under his skin, similar to how his magic felt-

_His magic._

The crushing weight of the realization left him frozen in the clearing, the strap of his bag slipping from his grasp and the small leather bound book of herbs falling to the ground. He was to be married tomorrow. Married to the man he loved. To the man he had yet to tell his most guarded and precious secret to. The ring on his hand felt heavy and constricting. Merlin resisted the urge to yank it off and throw it. He sunk slowly to the ground, nauseous with his fear. He had to tell Arthur. He had to tell him tonight. How could he even think of entering into a marriage when Arthur didn’t know something so important, so fundamental to who Merlin was? He couldn’t.

-

“I shouldn’t have said yes,” Merlin blurted. Gaius glanced up from his work only briefly and then looked again when he registered the ill expression on Merlin’s face and the sickly pallor of his skin. He looked like he might throw his dinner up all over the floor.

“You do not wish to marry Arthur?” Gaius asked slowly. 

“I do,” Merlin said. “Gods, I do. But I can’t.” Merlin’s knees gave out and he sat down hard on the bench. “I still haven’t told him about my magic.”

“Ah.” Yes, that was a rather important thing. “And what do you intend to do about that?”

Merlin leaned forward, elbows balanced on his knees while he dug his fingers into his hair. “I have to tell him,” he said. He sounded terrified of the mere thought. “I have to.”

-

It took Merlin nearly an hour to get from Gaius’s chambers to Arthur’s. His stomach was all tied up in knots and he felt light headed with nerves. He raised his fist to knock and then felt ridiculous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been Arthur’s manservant for six years now and he’d certainly never bothered with knocking before. Hands shaking, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Arthur glanced up from his desk, a smile on his face until he caught sight of Merlin. Merlin figured his nerves must really be showing for Arthur to look so concerned.

“Merlin, what’s the matter?” Arthur asked, immediately standing and going to Merlin. 

“I…” Merlin had to take a few deep breaths before he could get the words out. “I have something important I need to tell you.” Something like panic flashed across Arthur’s face.

“Are you having second thoughts?” the king almost demanded and Merlin would have laughed at the ridiculousness of that question if he weren’t so terrified. 

“Never,” Merlin assured him. “Nothing brings me greater happiness than to be by your side, Arthur. I would never have second thoughts. But I fear you might when you hear what I have to say.” Arthur frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Merlin took a deep breath and hated the tears already starting to blur his vision. Alarmed, Arthur stepped forward to pull him close, but Merlin matched him with a step back, desperate to keep some distance between them. Maybe it would hurt less that way.

“Merlin, tell me what’s wrong,” Arthur said. “You’re…you’ve got me a bit scared you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin choked out. 

“Merlin…”

For a moment the words stuck in Merlin throat, caught up in the sobs he was desperately swallowing back. Finally, he managed to force them out. “I have magic.” The silence that followed was tense and heavy. 

“I’m sorry?” Arthur said. Merlin couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his king hate him.

“I have magic,” he repeated, and then the rest just came rushing out, a desperate attempt to explain even though Merlin knew there was nothing that excused how long he’d hid his secret from his lover. “I was born with it. I could use magic before I could walk or talk, but I didn’t know what to do with it until my mother sent me to Camelot. Ever since I set foot in this city I’ve used it for you, Arthur. Only for you. To protect you. I’m so sorry.” Arthur grasped his chin and forced him to look up. The king’s face was void of emotion, whatever reaction he was having to Merlin’s confession hidden behind a practiced mask.

“I understand why you would say nothing under my father’s reign,” Arthur said. “But I am king now. I have been sharing my bed with you for months, Merlin. I asked you to marry me.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered. It was all he could think of to say now. “I didn’t...I couldn’t figure out how to tell you.”

“Why now?”

“Because I could not bear the thought of marrying you while I still withheld such an important secret from you. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

“Alright.” Arthur’s hand fell away from his face. He turned and paced towards the fire, leaning against the mantle. “I think… I think you should go visit your mother for a time,” Arthur said quietly, still refusing to look at him. Merlin took a deep breath. It shook.

“Okay,” he agreed. “How… how long?”

“Until I send for you.”

Merlin’s eyes slipped closed, his expression pained. “Okay.” He waited, hoping Arthur would say something else, anything else, but the king remained silent. Nodding to himself, accepting that this was the end, he left the royal chambers.

-

Gwen slammed the door to Merlin’s room open, startling her friend into dropping the tunic he’d been packing. “So it’s true,” she said, staring at the packed bags. “You’re leaving. Why? Merlin, what’s going on?”

“Gwen…” Merlin sounded so tired. He looked it too, bags under his eyes and a slump to his shoulders. When she looked closer she could tell that he’d spent the night crying.

“Merlin what happened?” she pressed. “Why are you leaving?” He kept packing his things and didn’t answer. “Whatever it is, I’m sure Arthur-”

“Gwen, please,” Merlin said. His fingers tightened on the straps of his bag as he tightened them. “It is between me and Arthur. That’s all you need to know.”

Gwen crossed her arms, frustrated. “You love him,” she stated. Merlin made an affirmative noise. “And he loves you.” This time he shrugged. “You two were happy together, I know you were. What happened?” Merlin sighed.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he said.

-

The cheerful mood of the past week was stifled under a tense confusion. Arthur could feel the eyes of everyone, knights and servants and nobles alike, tracking him as he came out of the citadel. The only one who wasn’t looking at him was Merlin, who had his gaze directed at the ground. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night. When at last Merlin did look up, he opened his mouth to speak, but something in Arthur’s expression must have warned him off. Instead he nodded, looking away again as he turned to head down the steps to where Corra was waiting.

Halfway down the steps Merlin paused and turned back, the misery in his eyes now warring with indecision. Arthur watched him patiently until Merlin made his decision and climbed back up to meet him.

“Just one more thing before I go,” Merlin said. His voice was pitched low, meant only for Arthur’s ears. “I know Agravaine is your uncle and the only family you have left, but I fear he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Anger lanced through Arthur. “Merlin-“

“Just be careful, Arthur,” Merlin pleaded. “Please. Camelot needs you.” He hesitated before darting in to press a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek and then he was descending the stairs again. Arthur bit down viciously on the urge to call him back, tell him it was okay, that Arthur couldn’t bear to send him away. He needed people around him that he could trust implicitly. Merlin had proved he wasn’t as suited for that as Arthur had originally believed. 

Gaius caught up to Arthur as he was striding back to his room.

“Arthur, you’re making a mistake,” Gaius said.

“I need people around me that I can trust, Gaius,” the young king said. “Merlin lied to me. He lied to me for years. 

“He did not lie out of a desire to hurt you,” Gaius insisted. “He has only ever wished to protect you. He isn’t-“ 

Arthur whirled around, anger writ in his expression. “He isn’t what?” 

Gaius sighed. “He isn’t Morgana.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched. He forced himself to remain calm. “No, he isn’t Morgana. But he isn’t who I thought he was either.” He continued up the corridor, glad when Gaius didn’t follow him.

-

“And what news do you bring from Camelot?” Morgana reluctantly asked.

“Excellent news, my lady,” Agravaine said. She turned around to see him smirking and gestured for him to go on. “The wedding has been postponed indefinitely. I regret that I cannot say why, only that there was some sort of disagreement between Arthur and Merlin that has resulted in Arthur sending Merlin away-”

“Merlin’s been banished?” Morgana interrupted

“Unfortunately, I don’t think he has,” Agravaine said. “However, we can be certain that he won’t be sitting beside Arthur on the throne anytime soon.” If nothing else, it gave them time to plan for the future. For now, Morgana decided she would simply be grateful that the crisis had been averted.

“This is good new indeed,” she said.

-

Not much about Ealdor had changed since the last time Merlin had been there. The same couldn’t be said for him. The saddle Corra wore was no longer the spare he’d originally been given in his first year in Arthur’s service. It was rich leather, carefully and lovingly cared for by the same stable hand who tended to Arthur’s tack. But more obvious than that, almost glaringly so, was the purple cloak wrapped around him. Merlin could feel the stares of the villagers as they took in the color of wealth and royalty on the scrawny little bastard child most of them had only tolerated. He’d thought of leaving the cloak behind, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Besides, it was the warmest thing he owned and the days here may be mild, but the nights were chilly.

His childhood home had changed even less than the village. There was some new patchwork on the roof, but with how many years the home had been standing that was hardly a surprise. Merlin dallied with taking care of Corra, ensuring she was comfortable in the barn and that all her tack was properly put away. He wasn’t sure what to say to his mother. He didn’t even know where to start. It had been so long since he’d been back here, so long since he’d seen her.

He was still standing outside when his mother finally returned, apparently having been out late in the fields.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. "What are you doing here?" She took note of the bag slung over his shoulders and the one at his feet with a frown.

"Mother…" But no words followed. Merlin still didn't know what to say.

"Come on inside," his mother said.


	7. The Harold of the New Age

-

“Alright, who drank the last of my water?” Elyan demanded. Someone burped.

“You said I could have some,” Gwaine said and of _course_ it was him.

“Some, not all of it,” Elyan said, shaking his empty water skin for emphasis.

“Whoops.”

“Here, have some of mine,” Percival offered, but just as Elyan was reaching out to take it he tossed it over his shoulder to Leon.

“Oh come on!” Elyan complained. He turned, without thinking, to share an exasperated look with Merlin or to ask him if he had any water left. Except that Merlin wasn’t there and hadn’t been for a while now. There was just Arthur, stoic and frowning. He didn’t do anything to stop the teasing going on between his knights, but neither did he join them, as he once might’ve. When Elyan looked back at his fellow knights it was to see that they were all watching Arthur as well.

“We should continue on,” Leon said, breaking the tense silence.

“Wait.” Arthur was frowning as peered through the trees. “I can see something.” He made a few hand signals and the knights fell into formation around their king, following him towards a flash of color just visible through the clusters of thick trunks. At first glance it looked to be an encampment, with brightly colored clothes strung everywhere, but at second glance there was no sign of tents or campfires. An odd sense overcame Elyan, sending a shiver down his spine. He could almost hear what Merlin would say in this situation.

“ _We shouldn’t be here. We need to leave._ "

Merlin always seemed to have a sense for what kind of place they were in. Not that the knights always took him seriously. It was well known that Merlin was quite a worrier. Still, as Elyan wandered further into the strange place, he couldn’t help feeling that there was something unwelcoming about this place, even as Gwaine cracked a joke that made Percival snort in amusement and Leon roll his eyes.

“There’s nothing here,” Arthur declared, voice ringing out oddly strong in the unnatural stillness. “Let’s keep going.” Elyan turned to follow, but his attention was caught by a well a few feet from him, reminding him of how thirsty he was. The water in it was probably stagnant and disgusting and Merlin would probably tell him quenching his thirst wasn’t worth the myriad of diseases he could catch from the water, but Merlin wasn’t there. So Elyan dipped his hand in and drank a few mouthfuls, pleasantly surprised at how cool and refreshing it was. He glanced around at the area again before turning back to the well and gasped when he saw the image of a boy reflected in the water. But when he turned, Elyan saw nothing. A trick of the light, probably. Or he was just tired. It _had_ been a long patrol.

-

Elyan gave little thought to the odd shrine they’d found until he was climbing into bed that night. He blew out the candle, settling in for a good night’s rest, when he heard an odd sound. It sounded like, like water dripping on stone. And there was this odd sense, like a presence hovering in the room.

“Hello?” Elyan called, but no one answered. He was probably just imagining things, just being spooked. Things had been a bit odd since that shrine, what with Arthur’s unusual somber the rest of the day, but that didn’t mean much these days. Arthur wouldn’t admit that he still thought about Merlin, but Elyan was sure he did. Really, Elyan should just lie down and go to sleep. It was nothing. Except that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone. “Who’s there?” Still, nothing answered. Carefully, Elyan climbed out of bed.

“Show yourself!” he demanded, approaching the part of the room where he thought the odd presence was. When nothing continued to happen, Elyan finally started to relax. Maybe he should ask for a bit of a break, get some rest. Clearly, he’d been working too hard lately. He went and sat on the edge of his bed. Yes, he was definitely asking for a bit of time off tomorrow. And if that didn’t work, he’d have Gwen ask for him. Elyan lay back down. And that was when he saw it.

A cry of surprise ripping from his throat, Elyan threw himself out of bed and away from the boy, the same one he’d seen in the reflection of the well. The racket he made brought Gwaine dashing into the room, looking around for any sign of a threat. Confused, Gwaine came and knelt beside Elyan on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Gwaine asked. Elyan’s eye darted around the room and couldn’t find the boy. A trick of the light. That was all it had been. Just a trick of the light. From overworking himself. But then Gwaine shifted to the side and Elyan’s eyes fixed on the boy again. The boy put a finger to his lips in a silent command for Elyan to keep quiet.

“Nothing,” Elyan said in reply to Gwaine. “I-I was getting a drink of water. Tripped over the table.” Gwaine’s confusion finally eased into a smile and he offered Elyan a hand up.

“We missed you at the tavern earlier,” Gwaine said. “Percival broke Sir Brennus’s wrist in an arm wrestle.”

“Sounds like fun,” Elyan managed to say.

“Not for Sir Brennus.” Gwaine gave him a concerned once over. “Get some rest. Arthur’s planned a training session in the morning. You know how the king likes his training. Goodnight.”

Elyan waited until the door had closed behind Gwaine before scrambling over to his cupboard and digging out a bag of salt. Gwaine had said something earlier about salt in a circle at the end of your bed keeping evil spirits away. Maybe he’d just been fooling around, but Elyan was willing to try anything.

-

Gwen listened with a flat expression as Gwaine explained why it was her brother was currently in need of a physician.

“And your response,” she said testily, glaring Gwaine down, “was to punch my brother in the face?”

“Well-” Gwaine withered under Gwen’s glare, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Why doesn’t he speak?” Leon asked, drawing everyone’s attention back to Elyan, who lay unmoving on his bed.

“I don’t know,” Gaius admitted. “It’s strange.”

“Like he’s lost his mind,” Gwaine said.

Gaius gave Gwaine an unimpressed look. “When I want your medical opinion Gwaine, I’ll ask for it. Perhaps you’ll leave me alone to treat my patient?” Leon and Gwaine nodded and headed for the door, but Gwaine paused before leaving.

“It would be better if Arthur didn’t know about this,” he said, eyes also darting to Gwen. She frowned.

“Why would you want to keep it from Arthur?” Gaius asked.

“Elyan’s been a bit off lately,” Gwaine said. “And I think Arthur already has enough on his mind right now.” That was true. He’d been in a very dark, quiet mood since yesterday and it likely wouldn’t be wise to burden his mind with more troubles. Besides, Gwen was perfectly capable of handling her brother, especially with Gaius’s help.

“Well, I’m sure the king doesn’t have to know about every accident that happens in Camelot,” Gaius said. The knights thanked him and left.

“What do you think happened?” Gwen asked. Now that she didn’t have Gwaine to glare at she was left with nothing but her worry.

“I have no idea.” Gaius went and stood beside the bed. “Elyan, can you hear me?” No response. Gaius bent closer. “Blink if you can hear me.” Still nothing. “Let’s leave him to rest for now,” Gaius told Gwen. She nodded, biting her lip with worry. She hoped this was nothing serious.

As Gaius left, the lid of his medicine bag fell to the floor. Gwen bent to get it for him and was distracted by a circle of white something on the floor. She dabbed her finger in it and tasted it.

“What is it?” Gaius asked. Gwen straightened, frowning.

“Salt,” she said. “In a circle at the foot of the bed.”

“Salt?” Gaius repeated “What on earth is that doing there?”

Gwen shook her head. “I remember hearing when I was little that a circle of salt at the foot of your bed would protect you from evil spirits. But why would Elyan think he’s being haunted by an evil spirit?”

Gaius shook his head. “I’m afraid I have no idea.”

-

This probably wasn’t the most appropriate time to drink, what with Elyan being accused of treason, but the knights couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Percival was the one who finally said it. “I wish Merlin were here.” Leon and Gwaine eyed him. “What?” Percival said, a little defensive. “I know you’re both thinking it too. Merlin always knows what’s going on.” Gwaine only grunted. Leon sighed. 

Arthur had been the opposite of forthcoming about why the wedding had been delayed and Merlin sent to Ealdor to visit his mother. All Gwen could tell them was that Merlin had been lying to Arthur about something, she didn’t know what, and that he’d told Arthur about it the night before the wedding. Gwaine had asked if that meant Merlin was banished. Gwen had only shrugged. Nobody knew what had happened, only that the morning of the wedding Arthur had announced that it was to be delayed while Merlin took some time to visit his home village. It had been painted like the idea was Merlin’s, like it was something he’d suddenly decided he’d wanted to do before committing himself to marriage. Those who knew them better could see through it. Especially if, like Leon, they had been on duty and seen Merlin crying as he made his way back to Gaius’s chambers. 

They’d never noticed how much they actually relied on Merlin’s knowledge and council until it was no longer at their disposal.

“We’ll just have to make do,” Leon said. Percival and Gwaine nodded, but neither of them spoke. Leon frowned. “Well?”

“Oh, we’re pitching ideas _now_?” Gwaine asked. Leon kicked him under the table. “Ow! Fuck, Leon! Look, I have no idea, okay? The only thing I do know is that Elyan is as loyal to Arthur as the rest of us.”

“So do we think magic is involved?” Leon asked.

“Maybe.” Percival frowned, lost in thought. “Remember that place we came across? With all the colorful cloths strung everywhere? Arthur went all silent on us?” Leon and Gwaine nodded. “Now that I think about it, I’ve seen something like that before. When I was a kid I was out messing around in the woods. I found a place just like it. Bright, colorful cloths and ribbons hung everywhere and there was this...this weird sense, I guess. When my mother came looking for me and found me there she went pale with fright, yelled for me not to touch anything, and dragged me straight home. She gave me a lecture on how I was never to go near places like that ever again.”

“Did she tell you why?” Leon asked. He and Gwaine were leaning forward with interest.

“She said it was a grave.”

Gwaine’s brow furrowed. “A grave?”

“Yeah,” Percival said, nodding. “She said it meant something horrible had happened there and the druids had turned it into a burial site in an attempt to give the spirits there peace. Apparently if you die a horrific death you can’t move on to the other side. The bright ribbons and cloths and whatever else they hang are to warn people away because if you disturb something at the site you’ll release one of the spirits residing there.” The silence between them was heavy.

“What do you suppose happened at the place we saw?” Gwaine asked. 

“The Great Purge,” Leon answered immediately. “It does make sense. Elyan is possessed by the spirit of someone who died during the Great Purge and it’s seeking revenge.”

“On Uther,” Percival concluded. 

“Maybe not.” Leon shifted under the stares from his fellow knights. Part of him insisted this wasn’t his story to tell, at least as much of it as he knew. But Elyan had tried to murder the king. Everyone was convinced that he was committing treason and his execution tomorrow would be well deserved. And then there was the somber mood Arthur had been in since they’d come across the burial site. 

“You can’t just leave us with that,” Gwaine said.

“No, I suppose I can’t.” Leon sighed. “Uther may have been the one to start the Great Purge and he may have been the driving force behind it, but there came a time when he ceased personally leading the raids on places like druid camps. He left it to a handful of his most trusted men.”

“So it could be the knight who led this particular raid,” Percival said. A moment later his eyes widened in realization. Gwaine was a few more seconds behind him.

“I don’t know how many of the raids Arthur participated in,” Leon went on. “And I don’t know if he was involved in the one that happened at the burial site we saw. But Arthur did lead raids against the druid camps.”

“I can’t imagine him doing that,” Percival said, voice quiet and subdued. “It just doesn’t seem like him. Druid camps are generally full of women and children.”

“It didn’t sit well with him,” Leon said. “It was only a matter of months before he went to his father and said he couldn’t do it anymore. Uther was furious with him, but Arthur wouldn’t back down. The next time Uther ordered him to lead a raid he just didn’t show up.”

Gwaine snorted. “Can’t imagine that went over well.”

“No, it didn’t.” Leon sighed. “We should talk to Gaius. He’ll likely know whether or not our theory is plausible.”

-

Gwen was all out of tears. She’d cried herself out when the verdict had been handed down. Now she just looked tired and fragile. Arthur had never thought of Gwen as fragile before, not really. She was kind and gentle and could be vulnerable, but not fragile. He hated seeing her like this. He hated even more knowing that he was responsible.

“Please, Arthur, there has to be another way,” Gwen begged.

“There isn’t,” Arthur said, pretending it didn’t feel like stabbing himself in the gut.

“I know my brother,” Gwen insisted. “He’s loyal to you. He would never betray you like this. Please, can’t you make an exception? Just this once?” Arthur closed his eyes, taking a moment to gather his strength. Executing Elyan felt wrong, but…

“I can’t be seen to make exceptions for treason, Gwen,” Arthur said firmly. He sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want this, but unless someone can prove that Elyan wasn’t acting of his own free will…” Arthur shook his head. “I’m sorry, Gwen, but I can’t make an exception. Not for anyone.” Gwen ran from the room, slamming the door behind her, and Arthur dropped his head into his hands. _I can’t make an exception, not even for a friend_ , he repeated to himself. Except he’d already done that when he’d sent Merlin away instead of burning him at the stake. He hadn’t even been able to bring himself to banish Merlin, just told him to leave. And Merlin had gone. Arthur wondered if Merlin would be able to tell if Elyan was under the influence of magic. If he’d be able to stop it and save Elyan from the chopping block.

It wasn’t worth thinking about. Merlin wasn’t there and Arthur had no proof that Elyan wasn’t acting of his own volition. Never mind that he couldn’t think of a single reason for Elyan to turn on him. Agravaine had said that perhaps Elyan felt Arthur had done his sister a disservice by choosing Merlin over her, but that made no sense. Elyan knew Gwen had loved Lancelot with all her heart and he knew that the love between Arthur and Gwen had faded from romantic. He’d thought, for a split second, that maybe it was about Merlin. The knights had always adored Merlin and none of them had been happy that he’d left. But treason?

-

“Hm.” Gaius rubbed his chin in thought, considering the theory brought to him by the knights. “It is possible,” the old man said. “You said it was a site decorated with colorful ribbons and cloth? With an odd feeling surrounding it?”

The knights nodded.

“Then I fear Percival may be right. Elyan likely disturbed something at the site and is now possessed by a spirit seeking vengeance.”

“How do we get rid of the spirit?” Leon asked. “And preferably before the execution tomorrow.”

“It needs to be exorcised,” Gaius said immediately. “Only that requires magic and-” He cut himself off and sighed, shaking his head.

“Magic is illegal?” Gwaine offered.

“I think in this case the king would be more than willing to make an exception,” Gaius said. There was something he knew that he wasn’t telling them, which Leon sort of felt was Gaius in general, but whatever secret the old man was harboring now...perhaps it was crazy to think so, but Leon thought it might relate to Merlin. He couldn’t see how though.

“Could you do it?” Leon asked, knowing that there was a time when Gaius had practiced magic. It was hard not to know that particular piece of information, not after the whole debacle with the Witchfinder.

“Unfortunately not,” Gaius said. “There is a potion needed for the exorcism that I am more than capable of preparing, but the exorcism itself would need to be performed by someone much more powerful than I ever was. There is another option.”

“What?”

“The spirit must find peace.”

The silence following those words was tense.

“Find peace,” Percival repeated. “As in...as in vengeance?”

Gaius sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

-

Suffice to say, nobody was happy with the thought of solving their problem by letting a possessed Elyan murder their king. So they started brainstorming. Unfortunately, their options were limited and all of them involved breaking Elyan out of his cell.

"We have to try!" Gwen exclaimed, desperate. "If we do nothing then Elyan-" She choked on the words. She'd already lost her mother and her father. The thought of losing Elyan too was unbearable.

"If we're caught we'll all be executed," Leon pointed out. Gwaine and Percival exchanged a glance.

"It's worth the risk," Gwaine said. The lack of any sort amusement in his tone clinched it. Gwaine may have a reputation for debauchery, but when it came down to it he was fiercely protective of his friends. Now everyone in the room turned to Gaius.

"I have not practiced magic in nearly three decades," the old man warned. "I am not certain I have the strength to repel the spirit that has taken over Elyan. But I will certainly try."

"Now all we need to do is break Elyan out of prison," Percival said.

"I'll do it," Gwen immediately volunteered. Everyone stared at her. "Nobody will think it strange if I'm down there. They'll assume I'm just visiting my brother." The knights shared an uncertain look.

-

Things did not go to plan. At all. When Gwen woke up on the forest floor to find that Elyan was nowhere in sight she took a moment to curl up on the ground and cry. Then she forced herself to her feet and ran back to the castle. She met Leon halfway there.

“Oh thank god,” Leon said when he saw her. “You never showed up! We thought something had happened to you! Where’s Elyan?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Gwen said. “He attacked me and now he’s gone.” Leon’s eyes widened.

“Then we better find him, fast.”

“We won’t have to look very hard,” Gwen said. “The spirit will send him after Arthur again.”

“I”ll go find the others, they’re out looking for you as well. Get to Arthur and warn him.”

Gwen nodded, taking off for the castle once again. She hoped she wasn’t too late. At least Arthur seemed to believe them about Elyan being possessed.

-

After the second attempt on his life Arthur knew what he had to do. He listened patiently as Agravaine vowed to see to Elyan’s execution personally, but when his uncle was gone, Arthur turned to Gwen.

“You know that’s not Elyan,” she said. “You know my brother would never hurt you.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “When Elyan spoke to me it wasn’t his voice. It was the voice of a child.”

“That must be the voice of the spirit,” Gwen said. “What are you going to do?”

Arthur looked away. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

-

Gwen had been told to stay behind, that this was something Arthur needed to do alone. But after enough pacing the floor of her home, Gwen made up her mind to follow him. She caught up to Arthur on the edge of the woods.

“I told you not to follow me,” Arthur said.

“What are you planning to do?” Gwen asked. “Arthur-”

“There’s no other way, Gwen,” Arthur said. “You need to trust me. Please.” Swallowing back her misgivings, Gwen nodded. She followed Arthur through the dark woods until they reached the area she realized must be the shrine. A shiver raced down her spine. Arthur gestured for her to hang back while he went to stand in the middle. He drew his sword, setting it aside.

“I’m here!” Arthur yelled, startling Gwen. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“What are you doing?” Gwen hissed.

“Everything Leon said about this place was true,” Arthur told her. “Including… including the part where I was the one leading the raid on the druid camp.” Gwen looked past Arthur and gasped when she saw Elyan. He was soaked to the bone with water from an unknown source.

When he spoke, it was with the voice of a child. “My blood is on your hands. I cannot rest because of what you did.”

“I know.” There was no fear in Arthur’s voice, just bone deep weariness. He got down on his knees and declared, “I am responsible for what happened to you. And for all the violence that happened here. When I lead the attack on your camp I was young and experienced. I was desperate to prove myself to my men, to my… father. I told the men to spare the women and children, but I know some of them ignored the order. There was so much happening. I wanted to stop it! I froze! I didn’t know what to do.” Elyan slowly approached as Arthur spoke. Gwen stayed where she was frozen. Even having heard the overview from Leon it was still a shock to hear Arthur admit to all of this himself. Somehow, Gwen had managed to never really think about the fact that of course Arthur would have been involved in Uther’s war against magic. He was still involved even now, with Uther dead and buried.

“I-I can still hear their screams,” Arthur went on. “I cannot right this wrong. Nothing I can do will ever change the horrors that happened here that day. But I can promise that now that I am king I will do everything I can to prevent anything like this from ever happening again. From this day forth the druid people will be treated with the respect they deserve, I give you my word.”

Elyan was standing before him now. Slowly, he drew his sword and Gwen covered her mouth with her hands, unsure as to what she should do.

“I am truly sorry for what happened to you,” Arthur said. Gwen waited, but for a long moment nothing happened. Then the sword dropped from Elyan’s hand and the spirit pulled Arthur to his feet, hugging him. Gwen was just able to make out the words, “I forgive you,” whispered against Arthur’s ear. Then Elyan went limp, sagging against Arthur, and Gwen knew it was over. The spirit was gone, freed from its torment at last, and Elyan was safe.


	8. The Hunter's Heart

-

Gwen jumped when Elyan appeared at her elbow.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Elyan asked. “Why’s Arthur dressed like that? That’s the sort of thing he normally wears on formal occasions.”

“Elyan, I have no idea what’s going on,” Gwen said, a bit exasperated. Yes, Arthur often chose to confide in her these days, but this was the first she’d seen of him this morning. At what point in time was he supposed to have been able to tell her whatever he was planning? “Now be quiet and listen.”

“My lords, fellow knights, gentlemen,” Arthur began. “As you are all aware, Camelot’s claim to the lands of Gedreth has long been in dispute. Today I can announce that after many months of confidential negotiations the kingdoms of Nemeth and Camelot have reached an agreement.” Gwen glanced around as murmurs started up around the room. “You have nothing to fear. It is a fair and honorable agreement that befits two great kingdoms. Furthermore, our friendship will be cemented by a union that cannot be broken: my hand in marriage to her royal highness, Princess Mithian.” Elyan had to elbow Gwen to remind her to clap and pretend she was happy about this announcement. What on earth was Arthur doing? From what little he had said, it sounded to Gwen as if the agreement between the kingdoms didn’t need marriage to solidify it, it was just sort of an added bonus. And perhaps Arthur’s attempt at moving on from Merlin, never mind that Gwen was quite certain he didn’t want to move on from Merlin. She caught up to him outside the council chambers, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“Arthur what are you doing?” Gwen asked. “Is this really what you want?”

“It’s what needs to be done for Camelot,” Arthur said, pulling his arm out of her grip to keep walking. Gwen matched his pace.

“But what about-” She cut herself off, biting her lip. Arthur whipped around.

“What about what?” he snapped. “Merlin? Is that what you were going to say? What about Merlin?”

“You still love him,” Gwen said. Arthur got right up in her face, finger mere centimeters from her nose.

“Never say anything like that ever again,” he warned, low and dangerous. Then he strode away, head held high with pride. Gwen knew better though. She’d seen the confusion and hurt and anger all swirling together in Arthur’s eyes and, not for the first time, wished desperately that she knew what it was that had driven her two best friends apart. All Arthur would ever tell her was that Merlin had betrayed his trust and he couldn’t marry someone who had done that. The only thing Gwen could think of was…

She sighed and turned away to get back to work.

-

“We have to do something,” Gwaine said. His pacing was starting to make Leon dizzy. “Arthur can’t do this.”

“He _is_ the king,” Leon felt the need to point out.

“So? That doesn’t mean he’s exempt from making stupid decisions.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Percival asked. “Sabotage the wedding?”

Gwaine immediately stopped pacing and turned to Percival, a bright smile on his face. “Perce, my friend, you are a-“

“No,” Gwen immediately intervened. “Absolutely not. Nobody is sabotaging a wedding.” Gwaine looked like he may have wanted to protest that decision, but a withering glare from Gwen shut him up.

“Alright, so then what do you propose we do instead?” Gwaine demanded. “Just sit back and watch Arthur marry some bimbo-“ He never got a chance to finish his sentence because Gwen picked up the nearest object, someone’s gauntlet, and threw it at him.

“There is absolutely no call to be rude,” she snapped. “None of this is Princess Mithian’s fault.”

“Sorry,” Gwaine said. He deflated, collapsing into the nearest chair. “So what do we do?” No one answered.

Finally Elyan suggested, “We could talk to Merlin.”

“We know where he is,” Percival said. “It’s not like it would be hard to find him.”

“No,” Leon said. “No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Gwaine complained. “If we talk to Merlin and tell him what’s going on he’ll probably come running right back to Camelot and Arthur will realize what a mistake it was to ever send him away in the first place!”

“Because Ealdor is in Essetir, not Camelot,” Leon reminded him. “Essetir is ruled by Lot, who holds a very strong grudge against the Pendragon family. If he knew that knights of Camelot were crossing the border he would most likely take it as an act of war.”

“So we’ll go in disguise,” Gwaine said. _Right_ , Leon thought, _because there's no way that could possibly go wrong_.

-

Merlin was not difficult to find. Ealdor wasn’t a particularly large village so it didn’t take long to find the right house. They knew it was the right one because Merlin was just out back of it, pulling laundry down from the lines. He picked up the laundry basket, turned around, and nearly dropped the clean clothes all over the ground when he saw them. Merlin’s expression quickly shifted from shocked to irritated and from the corner of his eye Elyan saw Gwaine’s grin fade a bit.

“What are you two doing here?” Merlin demanded. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

“What laundry?” Gwaine tried to joke. Merlin’s eyes narrowed.

“Inside,” he snapped, pointing to his home. “Now.” As he scurried to follow the order Elyan reflected how odd it was that they, knights of Camelot, could be ordered about by a servant. But that was just the way it had always been. It probably helped that Elyan had once been of the same social standing as Merlin, but it wasn’t just the low born knights who listened. It was Leon and the rest of the nobles as well. And Arthur, of course. Arthur had always listened to Merlin’s advice and opinions, whether he admitted it or not.

There was a woman inside the house who jumped to her feet when two burly knights barged in. Merlin shoved past them. “This is Elyan and Gwaine,” he said, gesturing to each of them in turn.

“I see,” the woman said and introduced herself as, “Hunith. Merlin’s mother.”

“Ah,” Gwaine began, “how very lovely to meet-“

“Gwaine, shut up,” Merlin said. “Mother, could we-“

“Of course, dear,” Hunith said. “I was about to take some of the apples over to Nerys anyway. I’ll just stay and chat for a bit.” She touched Merlin’s shoulder as she passed. When the door fell shut Merlin went to sit by an open chest by the fire and started folding laundry. Elyan exchanged a glance with Gwaine.

“Well you’re in a cheerful mood today,” Gwaine started with and Elyan had to work really hard to resist the urge to smack him over the head.

Merlin didn’t even look up to answer, “You’ve done a stupid and dangerous thing, of course I’m not in the mood for your jokes. Exactly what was going through your head when you decided to come here? Lot may rarely send patrols out here, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. And did you even consider what would happen to the village if you’re caught here? We’d all most likely be accused of harboring the enemy and what exactly do you think Lot will do? Because I know what he’ll do. Burn the village to the ground, with everyone still inside. What possible reason could you have for risking not just your lives, not just mine, but the lives of everyone in this village?”

Gwaine gave Elyan a look that clearly said, this was your idea so feel free to jump in any time. Elyan shrugged and remained quiet. Yes, he’d been the one to come up with the plan of going to Ealdor to talk to Merlin, but only because Gwaine had been so insistent that they do something. And it wasn’t like Elyan disagreed that Arthur’s decision to marry Mithian was probably hasty and not very well thought out. Gwen had voiced her opinion that this was Arthur’s way of trying to move on from Merlin and Elyan completely agreed. Was it really up to them to intervene though? None of them even knew why the engagement had been broken off in the first place. What if it wasn’t something they could fix?

“Have you heard?” Gwaine asked, none of the usual amusement in his tone. Merlin sighed, weary, though whether that was because of the work he’d been doing in the fields all day or because he was already tired with this conversation Elyan couldn’t be sure.

“Heard what?” Merlin countered. “Just in case it has indeed escaped your notice, Gwaine, Ealdor is essentially in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is almost a day’s ride from here.”

“Arthur is marrying a princess,” Gwaine said bluntly. Anyone who didn’t know Merlin well would miss the flicker of hurt that flashed through his eyes. Arthur had always teased Merlin about not being able to keep a secret even if his life depended on it, but for someone who appeared to be so open and friendly and even a bit clumsy, Merlin could be very calculating and observant. If anything, the way he portrayed himself was a testament to how good he was at hiding things. Who would expect the clumsy, smiling serving boy of harboring secrets?

“Well, good for him,” Merlin muttered, turning back to the laundry.

“Merlin, Arthur is getting married,” Elyan said.

“Yes, I did, in fact, hear Gwaine. And again, good for him.” Merlin folded the blanket in his hands with a bit more force than Elyan thought was strictly necessary. “Is that all you came here to say? Because if so I would appreciate it if you would leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Gwaine said. “Merlin, you can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Why not? What do you want me to do, go running back to Camelot and try and talk Arthur out of marriage? It’s his choice.”

“But he still loves you,” Elyan said. Merlin stilled. “I know he does. He won’t admit it, of course, but he still loves you.”

“It doesn’t matter whether he loves me or not,” Merlin said quietly. “He doesn’t trust me.”

“Why not?” Gwaine demanded.

“It’s none of your concern,” was Merlin’s testy reply.

“If you just tell us,” Elyan tried, “maybe we could-“

“There is nothing you can do!” Merlin snapped. He glanced towards the window, waiting a moment to see if his raised voice had attracted the attention of any villagers. Quieter he said, “What happened in Camelot is between me and Arthur and I would thank you not to pry into the matter. Arthur has a perfectly valid reason for no longer being able to trust me.”

“He doesn’t even have any feelings for her!” Gwaine persisted. “It’s just an arranged marriage to cement an agreement.”

“Well, at least Uther will be pleased in the afterlife,” Merlin said. “That’s what he’s always wanted for Arthur’s marriage.”

“That’s hardly a ringing endorsement for the relationship,” Gwaine pointed out. Merlin just shrugged. He folded the last of the clothes and closed the chest, setting the basket aside. He peaked out the curtains and sighed.

“It’s late,” Merlin said. “You’re welcome to stay for the night, but I expect you to leave in the morning. You shouldn’t’ve come here in the first place. It was reckless and dangerous. Saying Lot hates Arthur is a severe understatement and he would not take kindly to learning that knights of Camelot had crossed the border.” Gwaine opened his mouth to argue, but Elyan elbowed him in the stomach.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Elyan said. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Merlin pointedly eyed his small home. “There aren’t any beds in here.” With that, he walked out of the house, presumably to find his mother, who had been kind enough to give them some privacy.

“What did he mean by there are no beds?” Gwaine asked.

“He means we’ll be sleeping on the floor,” Elyan said. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. His father had made decent money as a blacksmith, supplemented by his mother’s income as a maid in a noble household, but it had been some time before they could justify spending any of that on a bed. The look on Gwaine’s face said he was more bothered by it.

“The floor,” Gwaine repeated.

“You’ve slept on the ground in the woods,” Elyan reminded him.

“That’s different.”

“It won’t be that bad. Merlin lived this way for sixteen years before he came to Camelot.”

Gwaine was quiet for a moment. “He doesn’t belong here,” he said. Elyan glanced around the small home and agreed. Ealdor may be the place of Merlin’s birth, where he was raised, but he didn’t belong there. He was like a puzzle piece trying to jam himself into the wrong puzzle. At first glance, there was nothing amiss, but the harder you tried to force it, the more obvious it became that the puzzle piece was the wrong shape.

-

Gwen was pacing by the time her brother and Gwaine finally returned to Camelot and made it to Percival’s room, their newly designated meeting location for discussing all things relating to their king and the manservant he’d almost married.

“Well?” she asked, looking between them. “What did he say?” Gwaine, clearly angry, just stalked over to the fire, looking like he desperately wanted to kick something.

“He said it’s Arthur’s choice,” Elyan reported.

“I don’t get why he’s being stubborn about this,” Gwaine snapped. “Those two idiots are still in love with each other! We all know it. _They_ know it. So what the hell is going on?” Nobody answered. None of them knew what to say.

“Arthur wouldn’t be unhappy with Mithian,” Gwen said quietly. “She’s quite lovely and they share a number of common interests. She has decorum, but she’s not proper.” The incident where Arthur had spilled soup all over himself was a good indication of that. As well, George had informed Gwen of what sounded to her like a burping contest that had taken place on their morning picnic. Were it not for the fact that Arthur’s feelings for Merlin still remained then Gwen would be ecstatic that he had found someone like Mithian, someone he would no doubt grow to love with time and who would make him happy.

“So what do we do?” Percival asked.

“Nothing,” Leon said. He held up a hand to stall Gwaine’s protests. “It is not for us to decide who Arthur marries. If this is the decision he has made then we must respect that.”

“It’s a stupid decision,” Gwaine muttered.

“Nevertheless.” Leon stood. “We all have duties we should be attending to. Also, Gwaine, Elyan, Arthur wants to see you.”

-

“And just where have you two been?” Arthur demanded. Gwaine exchanged a glance with Elyan, who gestured for him to take point on this one.

“We went to Ealdor,” Gwaine said bluntly. “To see Merlin and ask him what he thought of your impending marriage.” Arthur staggered back a step as if Gwaine had dealt him a physical blow.

“That was dangerous,” Arthur said when he’d regained his composure a moment later. “Lot never liked my father and he seems to like me even less. If he knew knights of Camelot were in his kingdom it would be all the excuse he needed to declare war.”

“We were careful, sire,” Elyan promised. And they had been. Nothing that identified them as Arthur’s knights. Hell, Percival had even suggested leaving their chainmail behind and making like they were just average travelers, but the threat of running into bandits had seemed like too great a risk. Like Cenred, Lot didn’t pay too much attention to the villages along his borders, making them far more prone to being raided. It made Gwaine twitch uncomfortably to know that Merlin was living in such a dangerous area, even if it was where he’d been born and raised.

“Don’t do it again,” Arthur ordered. The knights bowed their heads briefly in acknowledgement. A beat of silence passed, then, “What did he say?”

“He _said_ that he’s happy for you,” Gwaine said, putting as much emphasis on _said_ as possible and hoping Arthur would catch the meaning. Whatever Merlin had said, it seemed obvious to Gwaine that hearing news of Arthur’s decision to marry someone else had hurt him. Arthur turned away, going to stand by the window and look out over the courtyard.

“You’re dismissed.”

Gwaine gave a moment of thought to arguing, but decided now wasn’t a good time. Arthur was already angry with them. Staying to argue, particularly about a sensitive subject like the king’s love life, would be a stupid move.

-

The hunting party returned in a somber mood that made Gwen frown in confusion. While it saddened her to think that Merlin and Arthur may never get the opportunity to reconcile and give their relationship another chance, she’d meant it when she said Arthur wouldn’t be unhappy with Mithian. She wasn’t too proper, they shared similar interests, and while she likely wouldn’t show Arthur the same blunt honesty he had always valued in Merlin, Mithian seemed the sort to feel comfortable expressing her opinion. Gwen could certainly warm to the idea of Mithian as Arthur’s queen. Arthur himself had seemed to be warming to the idea. And yet when Arthur dismounted in the courtyard he didn’t even wait to hand his reins to a stableboy before walking straight into the castle, like he couldn’t stand another moment in the presence of others.

In the guest chambers the mood was also somber. There was none of the normal conversation Gwen had grown accustomed to over the past few days, no more curious questions about Camelot’s culture and customs, nothing until Gwen had finished helping Mithian dress and was silently doing her hair.

“I’m going to ask you something, Gwen,” Mithian said. “I want you to be completely honest in your answer, can you promise me that?”

Gwen frowned, even more confused than she’d been before. “I promise I will be as honest as I can,” she said carefully.

“Today on the hunt,” Mithian began. For a moment she didn’t seem to know how to continue. She cleared her throat. “Everything seemed to be fine. Arthur and I were talking, just about past hunts we’d been on. He said his favorite hunts had always been the ones where it was just him and another person whose name he didn’t mention.” Gwen knew immediately where this was going, but she stayed quiet and let Mithian continue. “He said it wasn’t even so much about hunting, but more about spending time away from the castle. I’ve always loved those kinds of hunts as well. It’s nice to get away from it all sometimes and not have to put up pretenses. We stopped talking after that, but I hardly noticed because that was when the dogs finally caught the scent of a doe.

“We tracked it down quickly. Sir Leon could have taken it down, but he allowed Arthur the first shot. We waited, and waited, but he never took it. So I raised my crossbow to take a shot. Only, before I could, Arthur called a halt to the hunt. He said he’d lost his appetite for sport today and ordered an immediate return to the castle. Sir Leon didn’t look surprised by this and the other knights seemed to understand what was going on as well, but I’m confused. I know that Arthur values you more as a friend than a servant. I wondered if you could tell me what happened.” Gwen hesitated. “You promised honesty,” Mithian reminded her.

“I do know what happened,” Gwen said softly. She put the finishing touches on Mithian’s hair and cautiously took a seat at the table. Mithian didn’t seem to mind. “A few months ago Arthur was betrothed. It… ended rather badly. Those hunts Arthur talked about where it was just him and another person… the other person was his betrothed.”

“They enjoyed hunting as well?” Mithian guessed.

Gwen couldn’t help a soft snort of amusement. “Just the opposite actually.” She could still remember how Merlin would complain whenever Arthur decided they were going on a hunt. He’d once confided in her that he was noisy and clumsy on purpose to scare all the animals away. “It was more about spending time together, just the two of them.”

“I see.” Mithian nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for telling me this, Gwen.”

-

The blue neckerchief was old and ratty, but even after everything that had happened Arthur hadn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of it. It was the one Merlin had give him as a favor before the fight with Queen Annis’s champion. He held it now, absently twisting it around his hands as he sat on the foot of his bed and thought about the day’s hunt. The first, he’d only now realized, since Merlin had left. There’d been too much else going on lately to spare the time for it. He’d been excited at first, even thinking that perhaps things would go much more smoothly without Merlin there to scare the game off. But then he and Mithian had started chatting about past hunts and by the time they’d found the doe the excitement had vanished.

No longer was Arthur thinking about how irritating it was to return to Camelot with nothing more than the skins of the rabbits he’d caught for dinner. He was thinking about watching Merlin make camp as he nattered on, usually about this or that patient that had come into Gaius’s clinic or the latest castle gossip circulating among the servants. He was thinking about the rich, hot stew that only got better the more times Merlin prepared it, giving credence to the saying that practice makes perfect. He was thinking about lying on his sleeping pallet and looking up at the stars, Merlin’s body curled against his to ward off the chill of the night air. He could almost hear Merlin sleepily asking what was so fun about killing innocent animals who couldn’t defend themselves?

He remembered taking a skin of mead along on one of those hunts and coaxing Merlin into sharing it with him. That was the night Arthur had learned that Merlin may be rubbish with most weapons, but he could shoot an arrow with a bow with surprising accuracy, especially considering he hadn’t practiced since leaving Ealdor. Will’s father had taught Merlin when he was a boy, so that he could hunt when he needed to. But he’d also taught Merlin that hunting was a mechanism for survival.

" _You should always ask the forest for permission to hunt there_ ," Merlin had explained, slurring a bit. " _And you must say a prayer of thanks. When you kill an animal, too. You have to say a prayer then as well. To thank the animal for its sacrifice_." On every hunt after that Arthur had watched Merlin and realized that as they passed under the first branches of the trees in the woods he would duck his head and whisper something. A prayer. And again whenever Arthur brought him their meal for the night. Before beginning the skinning and cooking, Merlin would bow his head over the animals and pray.

All of this had been swirling around in Arthur’s head when they finally caught up to the doe. Leon had given up the first shot to him, but Arthur had found himself frozen. _There’s nobody to say the prayer_ , he’d thought. He’d never been able to bring himself to ask Merlin about it outside of that one drunken night. And so he’d called it off, just as Mithian was raising her crossbow. Mithian had asked a few confused questions that Arthur hadn’t been able to bring himself to answer. He’d needed space to think. Around them the knights had been stoically silent. They’d all seemed to know exactly what was happening.

A knock on the door of his chambers drew Arthur out of his thoughts. Before he could decide if he wanted a visitor or not, Gwen entered. The look on her face told Arthur that Mithian had already questioned her about the hunting trips abrupt end.

“What did you say?” Arthur asked. Gwen quietly shut the door and came to stand by the bed.

“Not much. Just that the hunt reminded you of the one you were once betrothed to.”

Arthur nodded absently. He looked down at the neckerchief twined around his hands, frowning. “She would be a good queen,” he said.

“Yes,” Gwen agreed quietly.

“I could grow to love her.”

“You could.” Gwen gave him a significant look. “But do you want to?”

“He lied to me. How can I still love someone that’s betrayed my trust?”

“So you do still love him.”

Arthur wanted to say no, of course he no longer loved Merlin. Merlin had betrayed him, had lied to him. He’d broken the law from the moment he set foot inside Camelot until the moment Arthur had sent him away.

_Ever since I set foot in this city I’ve used it for you, Arthur. Only for you. To protect you._

Arthur looked at Gwen. “What should I do? Should I marry her?”

“I’m not sure that’s my place to say,” Gwen said. “Only you can make that decision.”

“What if I make the wrong one?”

“Arthur-”

“Tell me what to do Gwen. Please.”

Gwen was quiet for a moment, watching him. Finally she asked, “What does your heart tell you?”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

-

As he stood at the foot of the stairs, watching Mithian descend at the head of her entourage, Arthur questioned himself. His uncle had gone on at great length about what an insult this was to the Kingdom of Nemeth, how King Rodor would likely seek some form of retribution and all the hard work done to negotiate the treaty between their kingdoms would be undone. And yet, as Mithian passed him, expression stony, Arthur knew he couldn’t marry her. Not when that blue neckerchief was still tucked away in the wardrobe. Not when he kept turning around, still expecting to see someone who hadn’t been there in months.

“Princess,” Arthur called. Mithian paused. “I’m sorry.” She turned and Arthur could catch a glimpse of the hurt in her eyes. He held out the scroll he’d had written up late last night. It was a small compensation for the hurt he had caused her, but it was all Arthur could think to offer.

“What’s this?” Mithian asked stiffly.

“I relinquish Camelot’s claim to the disputed lands,” Arthur said. “If this agreement is to your liking I will sign forthwith.” Some of the anger in Mithian’s gaze was replaced by surprise as she took the scroll.

“You would give up your family’s ancient claims?”

“I do not want there to be conflict between our kingdoms. If there is anything in there you do not agree with I can have it rewritten.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Mithian said absently. She gave him a long, observing look, then shook her head. “So tell me, who is it that trumps a princess?”

“No one,” Arthur answered immediately. Then, “And everyone.”

“What great family are they from?”

“None. He’s the son of a farmer.”

“And yet you would give up your family’s ancient claims for him.”

The answer came easier than Arthur thought. “Yes.”

Mithian’s expression softened, turning a bit sad. “I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved,” she admitted. She gathered herself together. “Farewell, Arthur.

“Farewell, princess.”

Mithian smiled, then turned away to mount her horse. Arthur watched her until she was gone from the courtyard, wondering if he’d just made a horrible mistake.


	9. The Sword in the Stone (Part 1)

-

George came to Gwen in hysterics less than an hour before the feast was supposed to start, holding a belt that she assumed belonged to Arthur.

“What?” she asked. George just sort of wheezed helplessly until she sighed and said, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“The king’s belt!” George blurted. “It’s too small! And there isn’t another one!”

Gwen had to bite down on her lip for a moment to stop from laughing.“So just add another hole to it.”

“But… but the king will notice! What if he takes offense?”

“It’s hardly your fault he’s put on a bit of extra weight since becoming king is it? Uther had quite a gut after all.” George let out another painful, panicked wheeze so Gwen held out her hand. “Give it here then.”

“What are you going to do with it?” George asked, nervously handing her the belt.

“Put another hole in it.”

“But-“

“Unless you’d rather the king’s trousers fell down in the middle of the feast, thereby humiliating him in front of the entire court.”

George snapped his mouth shut, looking like he might die from the mere thought.

-

“Ah, my favorite,” Arthur said. “Herb crusted capers.”

“Careful with those, sire, or your belt might find itself in need of modification again,” Gwen said before she could stop herself. Behind her she heard one of the knights choke on his wine and glanced back to see Percival trying to hold in his laughter. Arthur gaped at her for a long moment.

“How did you…” The king trailed off helplessly.

“George would apparently rather throw himself in front of a runaway cart than tailor any of your clothes to account for all the feasting of the last year,” she explained. “He came to me panicking so I did it.”

“Right.” Arthur cleared his throat. “Well.” He reached for his wine and took a deep drink of it. Smiling fondly, Gwen moved on down the table. By the time she made her way back to Arthur he’d settled into a maudlin mood, staring absently at the feast going on around him.

“Arthur?” Gwen called gently. “Are you alright?”

“Nobody likes to be called fat,” Arthur muttered.

“I'm sorry, that was quite rude of me, wasn't it,” Gwen said, though she knew that wasn’t what bothered him. She followed his gaze and saw Percival chatting up a young noblewoman. “Is this about Merlin?”

“I look for him in the room,” Arthur said quietly. “But he’s not there.” He looked at Gwen. “And then I remember why.”

“Maybe it’s time you two talked,” Gwen suggested. Arthur made a noncommittal sound and turned to his food, dismissing the conversation. Sighing, Gwen topped off his goblet and moved on.

-

The attack was sudden and without warning. One moment Gwen was trying to come up with a way to cheer Arthur up and the next she was treating the wounded.

“But how did they get the plans to the siege tunnels?” Gwen asked, helping Gaius tend to a broken leg.

“I’ve suspected Agravaine for some time now of treachery,” Gaius admitted. “Unfortunately, it didn’t seem there was any way to convince Arthur. Even Merlin was wary of saying something, though I know he brought up the possibility on a few occasions.”

Gwen gasped. “But if Agravaine really is behind this then-“ She took off.

“Where are you going?” Gaius called after her.

“To find Arthur!” If Agravaine really was behind this and if he really was in league with Morgana, then it was a good bet that she was in the city. It was also a good bet that this battle was lost, in which case their priority needed to be to get Arthur out of the city. If Morgana captured him she would kill him.

Gwen rounded a corner in a corridor near the courtyard just in time to see an enemy soldier wound Arthur. He dispatched the soldier quickly, but it was clear that the injury was serious.

“Arthur!” Gwen hissed, beckoning him towards her. He stumbled down the corridor and she pulled him around the corner.

“Gwen, you shouldn’t be here,” Arthur said. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s not safe for you either,” Gwen countered. She shoved Arthur in the direction of the makeshift medical clinic Gaius had set up and peeked around the corner just as more enemy soldiers appeared. With a small, strangled sound of panic, she quickly followed after Arthur. They stopped at the end of another corridor right next to the courtyard.

“I’m fine,” Arthur insisted before Gwen could ask. He grimaced. “Alright, maybe a broken rib or two, but nothing I can’t handle.” Arthur looked around the wall he was leaning against, Gwen looking with him. They saw Morgana at the head of a contingent of enemy soldiers marching confidently across the courtyard. And then, falling in step at her side, they saw Agravaine. Arthur went rigid. He moved to throw himself out into the open and Gwen quickly shoved him back against the wall, silently apologizing for the pain she undoubtedly caused him.

“There are too many of them!” she hissed. “You’ll be killed!” She tried to draw him away, but he resisted. “Arthur, you can deal with your uncle later, alright? For now we have to get somewhere safe.” He resisted for a moment longer before allowing her to lead him back towards the inner chamber.

-

Things only got worse.

“We must get him to safety while we still can,” Percival said.

“Arthur would never abandon his people,” Gwaine pointed out. They all glanced back at the king. “He’d rather die.”

“Barricade the doors,” Gwen decided. “Give us as much time as you can.” While the knights moved to do that, Gwen and Gaius moved aside for a private chat. “We have to get Arthur out of here whether he likes it or not. Do you have something you could use to knock him out?” It wasn’t the most ethical thing to do, but Arthur was too stubborn for his own good sometimes. Unconscious may be the only way they would get Arthur out of the city.

“I don’t have anything strong enough,” Gaius said. “In my chambers, perhaps, but the Southrons control the palace.”

“There must be something,” Gwen pressed.

“I’m sorry, Gwen. I’m afraid I don’t have an answer.”

Gwen bit her lip, glancing at the door. She wasn’t sure if she could actually hear the Southrons getting closer or if that was just her nerves getting the better of her. “I suppose we’ll just have to try and persuade him,” she finally said. “If nothing else we could always have Percival throw him over his shoulder.” She stood back while Gaius did what he could for Arthur’s ribs.

“How bad is it?” Arthur asked. Gwen eyed his injury.

“Well,” she began, “if you don’t get them properly treated-“

“Not that,” Arthur interrupted. “Camelot. The invasion.”

Gwen took a deep breath to gather herself. “Camelot is lost, Arthur. It’s time to leave.”

“Can’t do that. I can’t just abandon my people, Gwen.”

“Many of them probably escaped,” Gwen tried. “Leon was in the lower town, wasn’t he? Once he saw how bad things were he would’ve led as many of the people as he could into the woods.”

“I can’t leave,” Arthur insisted. “I can’t just give up.”

“Arthur, please!” A sob escaped Gwen’s throat as tears started spilling down her cheeks without warning. “Please. We can’t lose you. _Please_.” She heard footsteps come up behind her. “Please, Arthur, we must leave now.” Arthur stared at her for several long seconds.

“Alright,” he relented. “Alright, yes.” Percival and Gwaine helped him to his feet. Gwen made sure to grab his sword.

“We’ll use the postern gate,” Percival said. At the passage leading out of the room, Gwaine hung back.

“I’ll keep them off your back as long as I can,” Gwaine promised. He held his arm out and Percival grasped it. Gwen hugged him as she passed. It was slower going than they would’ve liked, with Arthur’s injury, but eventually they emerged into the cool night air of summer on the edge of the woods.

“Can you walk on your own?” Percival asked. Arthur nodded.

“Yeah. Thank you, Percival.”

They didn’t make it far into the woods before they heard the rustling of underbrush. Arthur snatched his sword out of Gwen’s hands, wincing when the movement pulled at his ribs. Someone came barreling out of the woods and straight into Percival, who stared for a moment before exclaiming, “Elyan!”

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Elyan said. As soon as Percival let go of him, Gwen threw herself at her brother. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he told her.

“Is the way out of Camelot clear?” Percival asked, starting to move again.

“As far as I can tell,” Elyan said. Gwen made to follow them before noticing that Arthur had hung back. He stared back down the road towards Camelot. Smoke was thick in the air and the flames that caused it could just be seen among the trees. The distant echo of screams could just reach them.

“Arthur,” Gwen called. He turned to her, eyes heavy with sadness. “Come on.” He nodded and reluctantly followed after her.

“We have to make it across the border,” Elyan said. “Find sanctuary anywhere we can.”

“Ealdor,” Gwen blurted. “We should go to Ealdor.” Arthur jerked to a stop.

“No, we’re not going there,” he said immediately. “We can’t.”

“Of course we can,” Gwen argued. “We have friends there.”

“No-“

“Don’t you dare tell me you think Merlin wouldn’t help us,” Gwen snapped, interrupting him. “We need a safe place to recover and regroup.” She glanced down at Arthur’s injury. “Plus, you need a physician.”

“Fine,” Arthur said, reluctant. “Ealdor it is.” He frowned, turning to look back the way they’d come. “Do you hear that?” They fell silent, straining to listen. A low rumble was coming towards them.

“Horses,” Elyan declared, sounding startled.

“Run!” Percival yelled. They took off, but with Arthur’s injury they couldn’t move fast enough. A force shoved them from behind, sending them all flying. Percival fell off to the side somewhere, out of sight. Quickly, Gwen and Elyan dragged Arthur back to his feet and kept going. When they came to a small gully, Elyan stopped.

“Elyan, what are you doing?” Gwen snapped. “Hurry!”

“Keep going,” Elyan said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Elyan!”

Arthur grabbed Gwen and dragged her away. “Elyan,” he called. “If you stay here-“

“I know. Just look after my sister, alright?”

Arthur nodded and pulled Gwen along. “We have to keep going,” he said.

“We’ll come back for him right?” Gwen asked desperately.

“Course we will.” Behind them they heard the clash of metal on metal.

-

The forest seemed eerily calm and quiet around them. Gwen kept glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, but there was no sign that they were being confused. With every glance her eyes couldn’t help but catch on Arthur.

“You should disguise yourself,” Gwen blurted. Arthur frowned.

“Disguise myself?”

She nodded. “Or at least get rid of your cloak. Chain mail too, probably.” When Arthur kept frowning at her Gwen said, “We’re trying to travel in secret. We won’t stay secret though if you’re wearing a bright red cloak with the Pendragon crest on it.”

“You’re right,” Arthur said. He undid his cloak, taking a moment to stare at the crest of his family before shoving it into the trunk of a nearby hollow tree. His chain mail he was more reluctant with.

“We could be attacked,” Arthur said.

“I know, but we’ll be less likely to be attacked if people just think we’re ordinary travelers,” Gwen said. Arthur hesitated a moment longer, but then his mail went into the same tree hollow, along with his gambeson. That just left him in a white tunic, suitably dirty from being worn underneath chain mail that it wasn’t as likely to raise suspicions from anyone they may encounter. It was important that they keep as low a profile as possible, at least until they were over the border.

Eventually movement up ahead caught their attention.

“Stay here,” Gwen whispered. “I’ll go see what it is.”

“You?” Arthur whispered back. “No, Gwen, I should-”

“You’re the one being hunted, Arthur,” Gwen reminded him. “Besides, I’m not intending to be noticed. We just need to know whether or not we should avoid them.” Arthur reluctantly hung back, unable to argue. Gwen tiptoed through the underbrush and found herself peering out at a quite encampment. She couldn’t tell what sort of people occupied it, especially in the dying light, but it was probably safer to skirt around than to risk ending up in the clutches of a horde of bandits. Gwen was just about to turn back to go get Arthur when she felt the tip of a sword brush her back, not pressing enough to harm, only to threaten.

“Hello,” said a feminine voice. Gwen looked over her shoulder and saw a woman with a blond plait over her shoulder.

“Hello,” Gwen said back nervously.

“Gwen!” Arthur hissed. He appeared from behind a tree, sword drawn. He glared at the woman. “Step away from her.”

“Who are you?” demanded the woman. “Why are you sneaking around here?”

“We’re just traveling,” Gwen blurted. “My fiancé and I are just traveling.”

The woman eyed them suspiciously.

-

“Found these two sneaking around,” the woman said, guiding them into what was now a bustling camp. The man she was speaking to pushed off from the tree and slowly approached them.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

“We’re so sorry,” Gwen said. “Honestly, we don’t mean to cause any trouble. We’re just trying to visit my mother. She lives in a small village just over the border.”

“Lot’s kingdom,” the man said with a raised eyebrow. “Lot doesn’t take kindly to strangers. Likes to decorate his walls with their heads.” But then he shrugged. “No business of mine, I suppose. Move along, then.” Arthur made to turn away and leave, but frowned in confusion when he saw Gwen stand her ground.

“Would it be possible for us to travel with you?” she asked. Arthur stared at her, trying to silently communicate what a terrible idea this was. The man raised an eyebrow at her.

“Travel with us?” He scoffed. “No, absolutely not.”

“Please? We can pay. Handsomely.” What was she doing? They had no idea who these people were.

The man’s eyes brightened at the mention of payment. “Well why didn’t you say so? Of course you’re welcome to travel with us!” As he and the woman moved off, Arthur grabbed the sleeve of Gwen’s dress.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Safety in numbers,” Gwen said in a low voice. “It’ll only be for a day or two, just until we reach the border.” Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line and decided against arguing. It wasn’t exactly like they were spoiled for choice right now.

-

There was enough room on the back of one of the wagons for Gwen to perch and she was grateful for it. This dress and her normal shoes weren’t exactly ideal for traveling, but it wasn’t like she had had any opportunity to change. Hopefully Hunith would have something more suitable for her to borrow in Ealdor. Arthur walked along beside her, a constant frown marring his face.

“Everything will be fine,” Gwen told him. “We’ll get to Ealdor, regroup, and then we’ll go find Leon and everyone who escaped.”

“No one escaped, Gwen,” Arthur said.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that they did.”

Before she had a chance to argue further, the caravan of wagons came to a halt and setting up camp for the night began. Gwen helped, both out of a desire to stay on the good side of the man and woman and because she couldn’t stand being idle. She tossed a sleeping pallet to Arthur, which he took over to where the rest of them were being set up. Then her eyes landed on a chest. She’d been sitting next to it the entire ride, but hadn’t give it much thought. Now she found herself opening it out of curiosity's sake.

“That doesn’t belong to you.”

Gwen let the lid fall shut, seeing the man and woman had appeared at the edge of the wagon.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just… well, that smells remarkably like frankincense, doesn’t it?”

“So what if it is?”

Gwen’s eyes widened and she saw Arthur, who had been coming back over, tense.

“Oh.” Gwen swallowed. “But that’s… that’s illegal, isn’t it? If someone catches you and turns you in you could be killed.”

The man smirked. “Tristan and Isolde? I don’t think so. Besides, we’re too quick for the half witted King of Camelot.” Tristan and Isolde laughed and Gwen laughed with them, small and nervous. She saw Arthur twitch.

“Smuggler,” he said when they were alone, setting up their own camp a little ways from the others. “We’re traveling with smugglers, Gwen.”

“Arthur,” she sighed, too tired to deal with this right now. They’d been given a bit of food and she was using it to make a stew. “We’ll reach the border tomorrow and then we won’t have to think about it.”

“But-”

“Here.” Gwen shoved a bowl of stew at him. “Eat and rest. Please.”

-

Arthur slept fitfully. He kept being woken by frightening dreams that he couldn’t quite remember. Gwen was curled up on the other side of the dying fire. Around him the rest of the camp was quiet.

Half wit king of Camelot. Arthur wanted to be angry over Tristan’s insult, but he wasn’t. Clearly, judging by what had so recently happened, he wasn’t the king he thought he was. The king Gwen thought he was. He wasn’t even a king anymore was he? You couldn’t be a king if you didn’t have a kingdom and he had lost his to Morgana. Again.

As the sun rose into the sky, the camp began to wake up. Eventually Gwen stirred and then they were packing up. Arthur looked up at one point to see Tristan eyeing him suspiciously.

“What?” Arthur grumbled.

“That sword,” Tristan said, nodding at the weapon secured by Arthur’s belt. “Seems mighty expensive for a couple of peasants.”

“Won it in a card game,” Arthur said.

“And the gold?”

“Also from a card game. Played a couple of knights at a tavern.”

“Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Tristan snorted. “The knights of Camelot are no better than their king. No smarter, either.” Again, the anger Arthur wanted wouldn’t come. He just felt tired. Before Tristan could get out another insult a man a short ways away cried out in pain and dropped to the ground. Arthur saw a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. In the next moment men were pouring into the camp. Southrons. Agravaine had tracked them down.

-

False dawn was on the horizon when they finally set foot in Ealdor. Most of the houses were still dark, but some had candlelight in their windows. He felt deceptively calm there, as if he hadn’t just lost his entire kingdom to his vengeful sister and been betrayed by his uncle. A burst of laughter came from the window of one of the homes, clashing against the somber mood of their party. As they approached the well Arthur could make out a lone figure. He pulled up short without realizing it, the light of the soon to rise sun just enough to illuminate that familiar profile.

“What,” Tristan demanded, irritable, and Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated back because Tristan’s comment had drawn the figure’s attention. Merlin stared at them, his face the picture of shock. The wheel slowly slipped from his hands until the bucket went hurtling back to the bottom with a splash that made Merlin jump and snapped him out of it. He took a step forward.

“Isolde has been hurt,” Arthur said quickly. “She requires medical attention.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, slipping into a professional mask Arthur had never seen in his work as a servant. He gestured for them to follow and said, “Gwen, draw me some water.” Gwen hurried to do so as the rest of their party followed Merlin to the familiar hut that was his childhood home. Hunith sprang up from where she’d been weaving a basket by the fire.

“Gwen’s bringing fresh water,” Merlin told his mother and then rattled off a list of herbs that Hunith immediately went to gather from the little garden she kept out back. Gwen came in then, hauling a bucket of water. There was silence as Merlin worked. It gave Arthur a moment to take in the changes to the small home. It was different than he remembered it being, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Kanan and his gang had been six years ago. But there was something more to the change and it wasn’t until Arthur found himself staring at the brown jacket thrown haphazardly over a stool that he realized what it was. This was what Hunith’s home looked like when Merlin lived there. It was hard to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat.

“She’ll be fine,” Merlin said, breaking the silence. “I’ve cleaned the wound and she needs rest, but she’ll be fine.” Tristan nodded to him in thanks, going to sit by Isolde. Arthur stared for a moment as the smuggler gently stroked hair back from Isolde’s forehead, so tender and kind. It reminded Arthur of early mornings when Merlin was still asleep and he could just lie for ages, watching his lover. 

Arthur cleared his throat. “Thank you-”

“Sit down,” Merlin interrupted. Arthur almost missed the smile Gwen hid with a turn of her head. Hunith was busying herself gathering extra blankets, but she too hid a smile at the sound of her son’s command. 

“Excuse me?” Arthur finally managed. 

“Sit down and let me treat you,” Merlin said. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Merlin cut him off again. “I can see that you’re injured, Arthur. Broken ribs, from the looks of it. You’re lucky you haven’t punctured a lung yet. Now sit down and let me have a look.” The fight went out of Arthur and he sank down onto a nearby stool. Merlin helped him remove his shirt with practiced ease and a clinical detachment that made Arthur’s chest tighten with regret. His anger had diminished nearly the moment he’d lost sight of Merlin past the citadel’s gates. Stubbornness had been what kept him from sending word to Ealdor all this time. Now, with Merlin’s hands gently massaging a healing paste into his skin, wrapping his chest in bandages, the king couldn’t fathom how he’d ever thought he could stay away. Still, he held himself back, a part of him recalling the sight of Agravaine leading their attackers through the citadel. He did not think Merlin had ever intended to hurt him, not like his uncle or Morgana, but if one thing had been made clear by Merlin’s confession it was that Arthur didn’t know him as well as he’d thought. 

“There.” Merlin leaned back, resting on his heals. “You should get some rest.” He got up and moved to help his mother.

“Did you know that Agravaine was a traitor?” Arthur found himself asking. He was recalling Merlin’s warning before he’d left, couched so carefully as to give as little offense as possible. Merlin paused, turning enough so that Arthur could see his profile.

“Get some rest, sire,” he said.

-

Merlin left as soon as he’d assured that Arthur would actually do as he’d ordered and rest. He took a basket into the woods under the pretense of gathering mushrooms and sat in a small clearing by the river, absently watching the lazy flow of the current. It didn’t surprise him when Gwen joined him a short time later.

“What happened?” Merlin asked. He had his suspicions based on what little had been said and the fact that Arthur was injured and accompanied by none of his knights, but he wanted to know more.

“Morgana attacked with an army of Southrons,” Gwen said. “They snuck in through the siege tunnels and before we knew it Camelot was overwhelmed. We had no choice but to flee.” She paused. “Ealdor was the first place I could think of that would be safe, especially with Arthur’s injury needing treatment.” Merlin nodded absently, turning things over in his mind.

“Do you know if you were followed?”

Gwen bit her lip, unconsciously glancing in the direction of the border. “Agravaine tracked us down once. That’s how Isolde got hurt. But I think we lost him when we came through the mountains.”

“Good.” They should stay on the lookout anyway, but hopefully Gwen was right. They lapsed into silence for a while. Merlin hadn’t realized how much he missed Gwen until now. It had been bad enough when Gwaine and Elyan had showed up unannounced just to tell him about Arthur’s impending marriage. Speaking of… “Did Arthur ever marry that princess? I didn’t notice a ring.”

“Hm? Oh, no he didn’t.” Gwen gave him a pointed look. “He couldn’t.” When Merlin didn’t say anything she sighed. “He needs you, Merlin. And you need him.”

“That’s debatable.”

“You love each other.”

“Love isn’t the only thing that matters in a relationship.”

“Why are you both being so stubborn about this?”

“Gwen...” Merlin sighed. “Things aren’t that simple.” Even if Arthur was willing to accept his magic and even if they did learn to trust each other again that wasn’t all that mattered. Magic was still illegal in Camelot and many people were afraid of it. And if Merlin ever were to marry Arthur then he would not do it while still hiding such an important piece of himself. Not from Arthur, not from Camelot. He would not sit on a throne beside Arthur, protected by his marriage, while others of his kin continued to suffer. With all the pain magic had caused for Arthur, Merlin sometimes doubted he would ever lift the ban.

“Is this about your magic?” Gwen asked. Merlin startled, nearly dropping the basket into the river, and stared at Gwen with wide eyes. She blushed a bit. “Sorry. For just blurting that out. I sort of guessed a while ago, but I didn’t want to say anything, you know? I wanted to let you tell me when you were ready.”

“Oh.” Merlin looked back at the river. “And you don’t…” He made a vague gesture in the air.

“Of course I don’t hate you,” Gwen said gently. “But am I right? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes and no,” Merlin hedged, still stuck on the part where Gwen knew he was a sorcerer and didn’t hate him for it. That didn’t necessarily mean she was entirely comfortable with it, but she didn’t hate him. Merlin counted that as a win.

“It’s about the lying,” Gwen guessed. “But you had good reason to lie.”

“When Uther was king, yes,” Merlin allowed. “He’s been dead for months now though. There were plenty of opportunities since then to say something.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Merlin sighed, at once hating and loving Gwen for pushing him to have this conversation. He hadn’t even spoken much about it with his mother, not wanting to worry her. “Part of it is habit, I guess. I’ve kept this secret my entire life. I mean my mother knew about it, obviously, having raised me. Will knew. He found out when we were kids. Gaius knows.” He glanced at Gwen. “Lancelot knew.”

“He did?” Gwen sounded surprised. “How?”

“When he first came to Camelot and there was that gryphon terrorizing the kingdom? And Gaius said it could only be killed with magic?”

“But Lancelot killed it with a lance,” Gwen said. She frowned. “Didn’t he?”

“He did,” Merlin confirmed. “A lance that I enchanted. After, when we were waiting to hear what Uther’s decision would be, Lancelot told me he’d heard me using the spell. That was a big part of why he really left, actually. He couldn’t take credit for something he hadn’t really done by himself. He promised he’d keep my secret though.”

Gwen was quiet for a moment. “Had you ever actually told anyone before Arthur?” she asked.

“No,” Merlin realized. “No, he was the first person I actually told.”

-

Arthur froze when he heard voices up ahead. It was a bit hard to distinguish them over the sound of the water, but eventually Arthur realized it was Merlin and Gwen. It would be a bold faced lie to claim he hadn’t come out here in search of Merlin, especially after being ordered to rest. Still, Arthur hadn’t actually wanted to run into him. He still had no idea what to say. So, even though it was less than moral, he hid on the edge of the clearing and listened as they talked.

“No. No, he was the first person I actually told.” Merlin sounded surprised by his own words. And Arthur… Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat. It had irritated him that there were all these people that had known about Merlin’s magic before him, but they had found out by chance. Arthur had been the first person Merlin had chosen to tell. Arthur knew about Merlin’s magic because Merlin wanted him to know.

For the first time Arthur tried to put himself in Merlin’s shoes. He tried to imagine growing up with a power he didn’t choose and didn’t understand, constantly told that if he didn’t keep it hidden he would be hurt or even killed. It sounded lonely.

“I’m gonna go check on Isolde and Tristan,” Gwen said, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts. He hid lower in the bushes, watching as she stood and smoothed out her skirt before leaving. For a while Arthur sat there, trying to tell himself he should leave as well. Then he stood and walked into the clearing. Merlin turned to look at him.

“I told you to rest,” Merlin said. He got to his feet, but stayed where he was by the river, an empty basket at his feet. “You’ll never heal if you keep moving around.” A beat of silence. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Arthur said. He crossed the distance to Merlin slowly. There were a million things he could say, that he should say, but they all stuck in his throat, clogging it up until only one thing slipped out: “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Merlin said, voice barely more than a whisper and eyes full of heartache. Heartache that Arthur had caused. He felt his chest tighten with regret. What if instead of sending Merlin away he’d waited until his anger had faded enough for them to talk? Would they have worked things out? Part of Arthur couldn’t forget that Merlin had lied to him, but it was being drowned out in that moment by the sheer relief Arthur felt at just seeing his lover again. To hell with words, he decided and pulled Merlin into a hug. His ribs twinged in protest, but it was worth it to feel Merlin hold him back, fierce and yet gentle, careful of Arthur’s injury.

-

Night was falling when Hunith came to sit beside her son out back of the house. “How are you doing?” she asked gently. Merlin shrugged. “I saw Arthur follow you out into the woods.”

“You should’ve stopped him,” Merlin said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s injured and should be resting.” After a moment of silence Merlin looked over to see his mother giving him a knowing look.

“Did you two talk?”

Merlin shrugged again. “Not really.”

“I think it’s time you two talked.”

“He doesn’t want to talk about it.” If Arthur really wanted to talk about it then he would have in the woods, wouldn’t he? Instead he’d just said he missed Merlin and then held him, which was all sorts of confusing. Was it forgiveness? Or was Arthur simply seeking some form of comfort at a time when he’d lost everything? Maybe it had just been a moment of weakness.

“Maybe he just doesn’t know how to start the conversation,” Hunith suggested. She reached over to smooth Merlin’s hair back from his forehead. “Maybe you need to be the one to open the lines of communication.” Merlin looked away, out towards the hills surrounding their village, and froze. Torches sprang up along the ridge. From the other side of the village came the sound of screaming.

“Agravaine,” Merlin said, immediately getting to his feet. Lot’s knights had never set foot in Ealdor and bandits wouldn’t make it known that they had the village surrounded. Either Gwen was wrong and Agravaine had managed to track them through the White Mountains or someone, probably Morgana, had guessed they would retreat here. Merlin turned to his mother.

“Be safe,” she said and kissed him on the forehead.

When Merlin entered his house Arthur was pulling on mail that didn’t quite fit him (Will’s and before that, Will’s father’s) and Tristan was helping Isolde to her feet.

“They have the whole village surrounded,” Merlin said as he hurriedly shoved a few things into the nearest pack. No way was he leaving without medical supplies when there were already two injured people in their party and likely to be more.

“Then we’re trapped,” Gwen said. “It’s only a matter of time before we’re captured.” But Merlin shook his head.

“There’s another way. A system of tunnels that goes underneath the mountains.”

“That’s too risky,” Arthur immediately said. “What if we become lost?”

“We won’t,” Merlin said. “I spent my entire childhood exploring those tunnels, I know the way. Besides, what other choice do we have? Are you really just going to sit here and wait to be dragged back to Camelot for your execution?”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped, just a bit. “No, of course not.” He glanced out the window. “We still have to get past Agravaine’s men. They’re already in the village.”

“I have a solution for that as well,” Merlin said. Arthur stared at him for several long seconds before his eyes widened in realization.

“But-”

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.”

“Arthur, we don’t have time for this,” Gwen said. “We have to go now.” Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line, still wanting to argue, but Gwen was right. They didn’t have time.

“Go around the back,” Merlin ordered. “Keep to the shadows. When you see the signal, run right into the woods. Should be a straight shot to the tunnels.”

“How will we know what the signal is?” Tristan asked.

“It’ll be obvious.” Merlin peaked out the window, eyes landing on a cart that would serve his needs perfectly. They just needed enough time to get a head start. A hand tugged at his sleeve and Merlin turned to see Gwen.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Merlin said. Part of him balked at the thought of abandoning his village, his _mother_ , but the rest of him knew that keeping Arthur safe was more important. “Go.” Gwen helped Tristan support Isolde out the back door. Arthur hesitated a moment, staring at Merlin with an unreadable expression, before following. Merlin turned his attention back to the cart. A whispered spell set it in motion towards where Agravaine was striding down the main village path, eyes sweeping left and right in search of his nephew. The next spell lit the cart on fire. Merlin didn’t wait around to see how successful his little ploy had been. He booked it out the back, catching up to the others just as they plunged into the trees. A shout rang out behind them. Merlin glanced back and saw Agravaine directing his men to chase them down. He prayed they would reach the caves before that happened.


	10. The Sword in the Stone (Part 2)

-

They weren’t going to make it. When he looked back Merlin could already see flickers of torchlight through the trees. He made a decision, skidding to a stop.

“Keep going,” Merlin said. “I’ll cover our tracks.”

“With what?” Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just keep going.” Gwen, bless her, grabbed Arthur’s sleeve and dragged him along after Isolde and Tristan. Merlin waited until they’d disappeared into the underbrush before turning back the way they’d come and closing his eyes, finding his focus. Dragon magic burned like fire, but it felt right coursing through Merlin’s veins, almost comforting. He tilted his head back and roared his command to the sky. Nothing happened. Merlin looked down at the trees and saw the torchlight, so much closer than it had been before. A glance at the sky revealed that it was still empty. Hopefully it wouldn’t be for long.

As he turned and ran to catch up with the others Merlin finally heard it. Kilgharrah’s roar ripped through the night sky, underscored by the powerful _swoosh_ of his wings. Merlin reached the cave entrance just as the forest lit up with bright, hot flames.

“Did you lose them?” Arthur demanded.

“It’s safe,” Merlin deflected.

“You sure?”

Merlin brushed past Arthur to lead the way. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“Yes,” Arthur answered, probably more out of familiar instinct than anything else.

“Doesn’t change, does he,” Merlin said to Gwen as he passed.

It wasn’t as fast going in the caves as Merlin would’ve liked. He’d underestimated how much he remembered from the days of his childhood spent exploring in here with Will. It was coming back to him, though. Slowly, but it was coming back.

“So you know Arthur.”

Merlin turned to find that Tristan had fallen back to walk beside him.

“I was a servant in Camelot,” Merlin hedged. While technically not a lie, it most certainly wasn’t the whole truth.

“To Arthur?” Tristan guessed.

Merlin sighed. “Yes.” He thought he saw Arthur’s shoulders tense up ahead, but it was hard to tell with nothing but the torchlight to go by. He definitely saw Gwen glance over her shoulder at them with a concerned frown.

“Guess that didn’t work out very well for you, did it,” Tristan sneered. “What did he banish you for? Letting his dinner get cold?”

“He didn’t banish me,” Merlin said sharply because that at least was true. There’d been no mention of banishment when Arthur had told him to leave. “And I hardly see how my reasons for returning to my home village are any of your business.”

“I’m just curious as to why you’re helping us,” Tristan said. “You’d’ve been better off just handing Arthur over to the people looking for him. Why are you here?”

“Other than the fact that Agravaine is a slimy git and I hate him?” Merlin looked up ahead. “Arthur is my king.”

Tristan snorted. “Can’t say I’ve detected many kingly qualities.”

“You don’t know him.” Merlin pushed forward towards Gwen, not wanting to continue the conversation with Tristan. Things were quiet for a while. Then from behind them came the sound of shifting rocks. It could be nothing. Merlin doubted it.

“I thought you said we’d lost them,” Arthur said.

“Thought I had,” Merlin said. He made his decision quickly. “Keep going, I’ll lure them away.”

“No, Merlin,” Gwen said, “that’s too dangerous.”

“I have the advantage here,” Merlin reminded them. “I know these tunnels and Agravaine doesn’t. Keep moving.” He didn’t give anyone else a chance to argue, just handed his torch to Gwen and went back the way they’d come, tracing the sounds of Agravaine’s movements.

-

Arthur watched Merlin disappear down the tunnel, not sure what he was feeling, only that he didn’t like Merlin running off on his own. He told himself it was fine. He knew now that Merlin wasn’t helpless. Still, the feeling nagged at him as they continued traveling through the tunnels, right up until they reached the end of the caves.

“I have to go back,” Arthur said. Gwen opened her mouth to protest on instinct, but immediately shut it. She nodded. Arthur traced their route back to where Merlin had left them and was just wondering how he was supposed to track Merlin now when he heard a commotion a little ways away. He crept along the tunnels until he came upon a dead end swathed in torchlight. Hiding around the corner Arthur saw what was left of Agravaine’s men scattered across on the cave floor.

“You have magic!”

Somehow Agravaine’s voice took Arthur by surprise. His uncle was getting to his feet. A few feet in front of him, calmly watching, was Merlin.

“I was born with it,” was Merlin’s answer, still unnaturally calm. It was eery. A shiver raced down Arthur’s spine. He could feel the power emanating from Merlin.

“So it’s you.” Agravaine’s voice was a mix of awe and triumph. “You’re Emrys.”

“That is what the druids call me.”

“And you’ve been at court all this time.” Arthur didn’t have to see Agravaine’s face to know his uncle was smirking. “At Arthur’s side. How you’ve managed to deceive him. Oh!” Agravaine chuckled. “Oh, I see now. The wedding. You told Arthur who you really were and in return for everything you’ve done for him, he sent you away. How that must have hurt. I am impressed Merlin. Perhaps we’re more alike than you think.” Agravaine took a step forward, freezing when Merlin threw up his arm in warning. Agravaine made a placating gesture. To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin lowered his arm. But that, it turned out, meant nothing. Agravaine made for his knife, but he’d barely gotten it out of its sheath before he was thrown back with the force of Merlin’s magic. He didn’t get up.

Arthur stared. He would never have thought Merlin capable of this before. Death, destruction. The detached expression on his face, one Arthur was intimately familiar with from his own mirror, slowly softened into a weary sadness. When had Merlin become this? Where had Arthur been? He stepped out into the open and Merlin looked up, eyes widening in surprise.

“I really don’t know you, do I,” Arthur said.

“Not entirely,” Merlin admitted. “That doesn’t mean all of it was a lie.”

Arthur shook his head. He couldn’t think about this right now. There were other more pressing matters to think about, like where the hell they were going to go from here. He cast one last look at his uncle’s still body. “We should go.” He turned and left, not waiting to see if Merlin followed. A moment later he heard the soft echo of footsteps behind him.

-

Gwen was about to bed down for the night when she looked up and saw the look on Arthur’s face. After a moment of hesitation, she went and sat beside him.

“Why don’t I take first watch,” she offered. “You should really get some sleep.” For a long time she received no answer.

“I trusted the wrong people,” Arthur finally said, quiet, subdued.

“They were the ones who made the choice to betray you,” Gwen said. “That’s not your fault.”

“I was a fool,” Arthur insisted. There was a glassy sheen to his eyes. “I misjudged everyone. My uncle. Morgana. Every decision I’ve made has been… wrong.”

Gwen put her hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I should be more discerning,” Arthur went on. “Wise. A statesman, a king. Tristan’s right, there’s nothing special about me.” The surety in his words broke Gwen’s heart. “I’m just like everyone else.”

“That’s not true,” Gwen said, gentle but firm. “You’re a worthy king.”

“I’m good with a sword,” Arthur corrected. “That’s all.”

“Your people love you.”

“Most of them are dead, thanks to me.”

“No.” Gwen shook her head. “No, most of them escaped, I know it. Leon will have made sure of it. And they’ll be here, in the forest, waiting for you to return and lead them back home.”

“They’d be better off finding themselves a new king.” Arthur got up and walked away, ignoring Gwen when she called his name. Sighing, Gwen looked across the clearing to where Merlin lay, restless and awake. Their eyes met. After a moment, Merlin gave up on sleeping and got up, disappearing into the trees. Gwen noted that he picked the opposite direction Arthur had gone in.

-

Percival woke Leon in the middle of the night and it almost cost him his hand. The first knight sat up, alarmed until he saw that Percival’s sword was still sheathed at his side.

“What’s going on?” Leon demanded. 

“You’ll never guess who just showed up,” Percival said and that was when Leon registered his fellow knight’s beaming smile. 

“Who?”

“Come and see.” 

Grumbling, Leon pulled himself to his feet and trudged after Percival. It must be near morning, but the sun had yet to rise. Percival led him to the edge of the camp where a figure stood. Leon’s eyes narrowed, then widened when he recognized them.

“Merlin!” Leon exclaimed. Merlin smiled and patiently let Leon haul him into a hug. “I was starting to think we’d never see you again! What are you doing here?”

“Arthur came to Ealdor with Gwen,” Merlin said.

“So he’s alive?” Leon asked quickly. 

“Injured, but it’s not too bad,” Merlin informed him. “We’re not far from here, but there’s a bit of a problem.”

“But you said Arthur’s injury isn’t too bad-“

“It isn’t,” Merlin quickly assured him. “It’s…Agravaine’s betrayal has really done a number on him. Arthur’s doubting himself, that he’s worthy of being king.”

“Well of course he is!” Percival protested. 

“Gwen has tried talking to him,” Merlin said. “He won’t listen.”

Leon frowned. “How are we meant to take back Camelot then?” If Arthur was having doubts about himself then he wouldn’t be reliable in battle.

“I think I have a solution,” Merlin said, smiling a little. “There’s a clearing not too far from here. I’ll show you how to get there. In a few hours time, as the sun is rising, bring everyone to that clearing. I’ll bring Arthur.”

“What’s in this clearing?” Percival asked. 

Merlin’s smile widened, mysterious and a little mischievous. “Proof that Arthur is our king. That he is Camelot’s king.” The two knights exchanged glances, but didn’t hesitate to follow Merlin into the woods. They walked for some time before coming to the clearing. Leon gaped. 

“Is that-” 

“A sword,” Percival finished for him. “Stuck fast in stone. How on earth-”

“That isn’t important,” Merlin cut in. “What’s important is that Arthur will pull it out.” The two knights stared at him.

“That’s impossible,” Leon said.

“Not for the rightful King of Camelot.”

Leon exchanged a glance with Percival. Merlin had never led them wrong before and they had no reason to believe he would now.

-

Merlin woke him just after dawn. Arthur was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but Merlin insisted that this was important. So he dragged himself up, retrieved his sword, and followed Merlin into the forest.

“Where are you taking me?” Arthur demanded when they’d been walking for a while.

“Do you remember the first year I was in Camelot?” Merlin asked instead of answering. “There was that wraith who killed Sir Owain and Sir Pellinore. And then you…” Merlin chuckled, shaking his head. “You just had to step up and challenge him yourself. There was no way you were going to win. No mortal weapon could kill it. Hell, I even tried to burn it with magic and it endured.”

“What’s your point?”

“I didn’t know about the plan Gaius and Uther had come up with,” Merlin continued. “I didn’t realize Uther intended to take your place, so I made a plan of my own. I learned that there was a weapon more powerful than anything, that could slay something that was already dead: a sword burnished in dragon fire. And it just so happened that I knew both a blacksmith’s daughter and a dragon. Gwen gave me the finest sword her father had ever made and I took it down to the great dragon. He agreed to burnish it on one condition: no one but you was to ever wield that blade. So great is its power, that in the wrong hands it can do great evil.

“So of course everything went wrong. I went to the armory early in the morning to wait for you. But when the door opened it was Uther, not you who walked through that door. I tried to insist that he take a different sword, knowing the dragon would be furious if Uther were to handle it, but your father was so sure he was going to his death he didn’t care what weapon he used, so he took it.”

“Funny,” Arthur managed. His throat seemed to have clogged up at the memory of that incident, one of the few times he could ever point to where his father had told him how important he was to him. “Can’t say I’ve seen a sword like that lying around. Did you lose it?”

“I hid it,” Merlin said. “First, at the bottom of a lake, where I retrieved it from when we had to fight the undead army. After that, I brought it here, to this forest.” Merlin paused on the edge of a clearing and gestured to it’s center. “Where I thrust it into a stone.” Arthur looked down into the clearing and nearly forgot to breathe. There, sitting fast in solid stone, was a sword.

“I don’t believe it,” Arthur whispered. Then he frowned. “I still don’t understand why you brought me here. We’re not fighting an undead army.”

“You want proof that you’re Camelot’s true king? Well here it is. I came here earlier and tried to pull the sword out myself, used every spell I could think of, even tried destroying the rock around it. It wouldn’t budge.”

“Forget what spell you used?” Arthur asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t use a spell when I put it in the rock,” Merlin said. “I just...let my magic bind the sword here.” Merlin looked him in the eye. “The sword was forged for you, Arthur. For the true king of Camelot. Only you can pull it out.” Arthur stared at Merlin. Rustling in the underbrush caught his attention and he looked up to see Leon and Percival coming out of the trees, followed by the people of Camelot Gwen had said escaped.

“What are they doing here?” Arthur demanded. “Merlin what the hell is going on?”

“They came to bear witness to the proof that you are their king,” Merlin said. Even Gwen was there now, Tristan and Isolde hanging a little ways back. “They’re here to watch you pull that sword out of that stone.”

“It’s impossible,” Arthur said immediately. “It’s stuck in solid stone, Merlin.”

“It’s not impossible,” Merlin insisted. “Not for the true king of Camelot.”

He shouldn’t trust Merlin. Not after everything that had happened between them. Arthur looked out over his people and couldn’t help thinking they’d only come here to see him make a fool of himself. He looked at the sword again and decided what the hell. As Merlin said, this would be proof of whether or not he was actually deserving of the crown he’d lost.

Arthur entered the clearing. He went to stand before the sword and its stone prison. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, he pulled with all his might, but it didn’t budge. His cheeks heated with embarrassment.

“You have to believe in yourself,” Merlin said. “You have to believe that you are Camelot’s true king. Nothing can stop you, not even this stone.” Arthur looked around the rest of the clearing and was taken aback by the faith he saw shining through in the eyes of his knights, of his people. He looked at Gwen and she smiled, giving him a firm nod. They believed in him. An entire kingdom of people couldn’t be wrong, could they?

Turning back to the sword, Arthur grasped its hilt like he was pulling it out of a sheath. He let his eyes slide shut. Morgana would not win. She would not break him. He would return to Camelot, he would defeat her, and he would free those who were trapped there.

This time when he pulled, Arthur felt the sword sliding out of its rock sheath. When he opened his eyes he was holding it up for the world to see, early morning sunlight glinting off the beautiful gold writing embedded in the blade.

Leon’s voice rang out through the clearing: “Long live the king!” The people took up the chant. Arthur smiled for the first time in days. All was not lost.

-

Things were still odd between them and Merlin had his doubts that it would ever be like it was before, but this was apparently safe territory.

“Do you think there are too many of them?” Merlin asked, unable to forget the earlier discussions and how the enemy outnumbered them at least 3 to 1. He had faith in Camelot’s knights, but faith didn’t stop a blade piercing a man’s chainmail.

“The Southrons are men like-” Arthur paused and Merlin guessed his sentence had been going to finish with, ‘you and me,’ before Arthur had remembered that Merlin wasn’t just a man. “The Southrons are men,” Arthur settled for. “Men we can fight. But Morgana… her power is so great and we’ve got nothing to answer it with.”

“Yes we do,” Merlin said before he could lose his nerve. Arthur stopped dead and whipped around to stare at him.

“Exactly what are you suggesting?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

There was tense silence between them for a moment. Then Arthur asked, “What makes you think you can stand against someone as powerful as her?”

Merlin glanced down, trying to figure out how to explain. “When I first came to Camelot I learned of a prophecy. It spoke of a great king who is destined to unite all the lands with the help of the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, Emrys. A few months later two Druids were caught buying supplies in Camelot. I helped the boy escape and hide. That was the first time anyone ever called me Emrys.” He looked up to find Arthur staring at him like he’d never seen Merlin before.

“You expect me to believe that you’re the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth?” Arthur demanded in a low voice.

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” Merlin said. “Hell, sometimes I still barely believe it myself. I don’t feel like a great sorcerer. But…”

“But what?”

Merlin sighed. “I’ve had magic since I was born. For almost sixteen years I didn’t even know you were supposed to have to study it and learn spells to use it. It was always just… there. I hated it for a long time, actually.”

“Why would you ever hate such a thing?” Arthur sounded genuinely baffled.

“Because it was pointless. What was the point of having all this power in a tiny farming village full of superstitious people? I used to be convinced I was some kind of monster for being like this. Even now, sometimes I…” Merlin shook his head. “But that’s beside the point.” He looked Arthur in the eye. “I can stop Morgana from using her magic in the battle tomorrow.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment, observing Merlin. “Alright. Then I’ll leave that to you.”

-

“Well?”

Merlin jolted up from where he’d been slouched by the dying fire. On the other side of it stood Arthur. “Well what?” Merlin asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Did you take care of it?”

“It?”

Arthur sighed. “Morgana, Merlin. You said you’d take care of her. What is wrong with you? You look you’ve been up half the night.” If Merlin wanted, he could take note of the concern that had slipped into Arthur’s tone. But all things considered, he didn’t want to. Besides, worrying about his relationship with Arthur, nonexistent as it currently was, wasn’t ideal at the moment. Not when they were about to sneak into and attack a castle controlled by an army of Southrons who served Morgana.

“I was,” Merlin answered. “And yes, I took care of it. Morgana won’t be a threat.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur pressed. “Because our success here hinges on Morgana-“

“I know what I’m doing,” Merlin snapped. Arthur looked as taken aback as Merlin felt. Merlin sighed. “Someday I hope you’ll let me tell you about all the things I’ve done for Camelot, for you. But right now I am begging you to just trust that I know what I’m doing. Fighting and ruling are your strong points, yes?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes.”

“Magic is mine. Even if Morgana does manage to break through the spell I used last night just let me handle her. You and your men focus on the Southrons. If it’s necessary- and it shouldn’t be- I will handle Morgana.” Arthur nodded, going to rejoin his men without another word.

-

They split into groups for the attack. Leon led one group, Percival another, and Arthur the last. The plan was for a few smaller teams to stealthily take out as many of the Southrons as possible and clear out routes for the rest of their forces to move in. Arthur’s plan was to make straight for the throne room, where he was sure Morgana would be. His heart twinged a bit at the reminder that this was his sister who had done all of this. He wished he knew what he specifically had done to make her hate him so much. They used to be so close. But it didn’t do to dwell on any of that now. His mind needed to be on the battle they were walking into.

When they split up, Leon and Percival leading their forces to different areas of the castle, Arthur noted that Merlin stayed with him. For a moment, he almost told Merlin to pick one of the other teams to go with, but that would be stupid. Arthur was the one planning to take Morgana on and Merlin was the only answer they had to her magic. If whatever spell Merlin had used last night didn’t work, then he would be needed to fight her. Arthur still couldn’t say he was entirely confident in that part of the plan, but it was the only plan he had.

Arthur’s whole plan when they reached the throne room was to take out anyone guarding it and capture Morgana. The first part went very well, but when they burst through the doors into the throne room to see Morgana sitting on the throne, suddenly Arthur wasn’t as sure about the second part. When he looked at Morgana he didn’t feel angry, not anymore. He just felt an almost overwhelming sense of sadness. They’d grown up together. And while much of their relationship was marked by sarcastic remarks and teasing there’d always been the underlying knowledge that they cared about each other, that ultimately they would stand beside each other and face the challenges life threw at them as a team.

While the others hung back, wary and watching, Arthur found his feet carrying him forward until he was standing almost toe to toe with Morgana, his sword now sheathed at his side.

“What happened to you, Morgana?” Arthur asked. Her expression shifted then, from mocking and spiteful to hurt and betrayed. “I thought we were friends.”

“As did I,” Morgana said. Her expression hardened again. “But alas, we were both wrong.”

“You can’t blame me for my father’s sins,” Arthur said.

“It’s a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind. You’re not as different from Uther as you’d like to think.”

“Nor are you.”

Anger immediately began to twist Morgana’s expression. “I’m going to enjoy killing you Arthur Pendragon,” she declared, backing away. Arthur tensed, preparing himself for whatever spell she threw at him. “Not even Emrys can save you now.”

" _That was the first time anyone ever called me Emrys._ "

Arthur had to resist the urge to look back at Merlin. Well, at least that was one part of his story now confirmed by another source, albeit unknowingly. He drew his sword, praying that Merlin’s plan would work. Behind him, the others readied themselves for a fight as well.

Morgana smirked. “Your blades cannot stop me,” she taunted. “ _Hleap on bæc_!" But nothing happened. Morgana’s expression began to turn uncertain and confused. She tried the spell again, but still nothing happened. Arthur felt an intense wave of relief that Merlin’s plan was working. There was also more of that sadness seeing Morgana without her magic to shield her.

“Not so powerful now, my lady,” Arthur said. It would’ve been a taunt, except that Arthur couldn’t quite bring himself to taunt his sister. Helios stepped up, gently pulling Morgana behind him, and that seemed to jolt her into motion. She took off out of the throne room. “After her!” Arthur ordered and watched just long enough to see Merlin and Gwen follow Morgana. Then he turned his full attention to Helios. More Southrons burst into the room behind him, but he could leave them to Tristan and Isolde. It was time to end this and take back his kingdom.

-

When the battle was over, Morgana having fled and the Southrons defeated, Arthur found his feet carrying him towards his chambers. The doors were open, giving a glimpse of the mess caused by the Southrons' ransacking. He paused on the threshold, surprised to see Merlin had already started straightening the room. The chairs had been righted, things had either been rehung on the wall or set aside, broken objects had been removed.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked. Merlin jumped, dropping the boots he’d been holding as he whipped around.

“I’m cleaning,” Merlin said.

“I can see that. But _why_ are you cleaning?”

Merlin didn’t answer while he picked up the boots again and took them over to the wardrobe. “I guess I don’t really know. It’s familiar, I suppose.” There was quiet for several more minutes as Merlin continued to clean and Arthur just watched him. He kept thinking of Tristan and Isolde. Partners for life, Tristan had said. Except that Isolde was dead now.

“Why aren’t you using magic to do this?” Arthur found himself asking.

Merlin didn’t turn to look at him. “Habit.”

“So you’ve never used magic to help with your chores? Ever?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“You’d never have clean socks otherwise.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched in an aborted smile, but he didn’t have much capacity for humor right now. He watched Merlin clean for a bit longer.

“You know,” Merlin began carefully, fiddling with a tunic that he’d already folded three separate times, “if you want me to leave, that’s alright. I know… I know how hard it is to have your trust in someone broken. So if you want me to leave, I will. Just… just say the word.”

“There’s a lot we have to discuss,” Arthur said. Merlin looked up. “But I want you to stay.”

“Arthur…” But Merlin couldn’t seem to find the words. Arthur walked over to him, gently taking the shirt and setting it aside.

“As I said, there’s a lot to discuss, but I’ve had so much time to think about what happened between us.” Arthur brushed his knuckles down Merlin’s cheek. “I wish I’d never sent you away. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” On impulse he took Merlin’s hands in his and asked, “Will you marry me?”

Merlin hesitated. “There’s something I need to know first. What will you do about magic?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur said honestly. “I know I don’t understand it nearly enough to make decisions about its fate. I was hoping you would be here to help me figure it out.”

A smile broke out across Merlin’s face and god how Arthur had missed that smile. “Then yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

-

Merlin looked wonderful. At Arthur’s suggestion he’d worn a shirt of deep purple, plain in its design but made of rich fabric. It went well with the fine, red cloak draped over Merlin’s shoulders. Purple was a good color on Merlin and Arthur swore to make sure he saw him in it more often. 

There was nervousness in Merlin’s eyes as he knelt before Arthur. Geoffrey of Monmouth stepped solemnly forward and offered the crown to Arthur. Burnished gold and inlaid with gems that glinted in the light filtering in through the wide windows, the crown was beautiful. Arthur took it reverently in his hands. He let his gaze sweep once over the hall. Then his eyes returned to the top of Merlin’s dark head.

“By the power vested in me,” the king proclaimed. “I crown you, Merlin, Prince Consort of Camelot.” He lowered the crown to Merlin’s head as the crowd’s cheers echoed through the room. It sat perfectly on the Prince Consort’s brow. Arthur offered his hands and Merlin took them. Arthur could feel their fine tremor. Gently he guided Merlin to his feet and there before the entire court reeled him in for a kiss. When they parted they turned back to face the crowded throne room once again and Arthur declared, "Long live the Prince!" Their eyes met as the rest of the room took up the chant. Merlin squeezed his hand. Whatever happened, whatever life decided to throw at them next, Arthur was confident that they would get through it. Camelot had a bright future ahead and they would guide her towards it. Together.


End file.
